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bAVREL-CRPWNED 
LETTERS 


THE   BEST   LETTERS 

OF 

HORACE    WALPOLE 

3EtJtteli  toft!)  an  Entv0tiucti0n 
BY   ANNA    B.    McMAHAN 


CHICAGO 

A.   C.   McCLURG    AND    COMPANY 
1890 


COPYRIGHT, 

BY  A.  C.  MCCLURG  AND  Co. 
A.  D.  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION 9 

LETTER 

I.     Pleasures  of  Youth,  and  Youthful  Recollections      .     .  25 

II.     Mountains  of  Savoy.  —  Grande-Chartreuse    ....  27 

III.  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  Resignation. —Created  Earl  of 

Orford 30 

IV.  On  his  Father's  Death 33 

V.     Enclosing  Gray's   Ode    "On   a   Distant  Prospect  of 

Eton  College " 35 

'-"VI.     Description  of  Strawberry  Hill.  —  Dissolution  of  Par- 
liament. —  Measures  for  carrying  the  Elections  .     .  36 
VII.     Description   of  Strawberry  Hill.  —  Clandestine  Mar- 
riage Bill.  —  Execution  of  Dr.  Cameron     ....  39 
VIII.     Gray's  "Odes"  to  be  Printed  at  Strawberry  Hill    .     .  46 
IX.     Disasters    in     Flanders.  —  Gray's     "Odes." — The 

Printer's   Letter 47 

X.     History  of  Charles  V.  —  History  of  Learning      ...  51 

XI.     Congratulations  on  Pitt's  Administration       .     .     .     .  55 

XII.     From  a  Sick  Room 57 

XIII.  George  III.,  the  New  King.  —  Funeral  of  George  II.  .  59 

XIV.  Acknowledging    Receipt  of   Warton's  "  Observations 

on  Spenser " 63 

XV.     A  Friendly  Greeting 65 

XVI.     Acknowledging  the  Receipt  of  Mason's  Poems  ...  66 
XVII.     On    Mr.   Conway's  Dismissal  from  all    his  Employ- 
ments         67 

XVIII.     Picture  of  "  The  Town  " 70 

-  XIX.     Origin  of  the  "  Castle  of  Otranto  " 74 

XX.     With  a  Copy  of  the  "  Castle  of  Otranto  " 78 

XXI.     Consolations  of  Authorship 80 


20548B9 


CONTENTS. 


XXII. 
XXIII. 
XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 
XXXII. 
XXXIII. 


XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 
XL. 
XLI. 

XLII. 
XLIII. 
XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 
XLVII. 
XLVIII. 

XLIX. 
L. 

LT. 
LII. 
LIII. 
LIV. 


PAGE 

French  Society  and  Taste 82 

Vanity  of  Court  Honors 86 

Concerning  a  Particular  Friend,  and  Friendship 

in  general 89 

Visits  a  Wesley  Meeting 95 

Resigning  his  Seat  in  Parliament 96 

In  Paris  again,  with  Madame  du  Deffand    ...  99 

Literary  and  Dramatic  Criticism 102 

Gloomy  View  of   Contemporary  Literature  and 

Politics 104 

Improvements  at  Strawberry  Hill 107 

On  the  Death  of  the  Poet  Gray 1 1 1 

Disaster  at  Strawberry  Hill 115 

Tribute    to    Gray's    Genius.  —  Depreciation   of 

Garrick 118 

Selection  of  Gray's  Letters  for  Publication      .     .  120 

Ruin  and  Desolation  of  the  Family  Property  .     .  124 

On  a  Performance  of  Mason's  "  Elfrida  "  .     .     .  125 
Garrick's    "  Christmas    Tale."  —  In    Praise   of 

Music 127 

Tribute  to  Mason  as  Editor  and  Author.  —  Con- 
cerning Slavery  in  America 130 

Houghton  and  Lawyers.  — Literary  Property       .  133 

Inducements  to  visit  Strawberry  Hill     ....  137 
Degeneration  of  the  Present  Time.  —  Pleasures 

of  Old  Age 139 

An  Adventure  on  the  Thames 141 

Cautions  relating  to  Paris 143 

Distressed  State  of  the  Kingdom 147 

Conduct  of  America  contrasted  with  that  of  Eng- 
land        149 

On  Public  Affairs 151 

Preparations  for  War  with  America 153 

On  a  Performance  of  Jephson's  "  Braganza  "       .  155 

On  Mason's  Life  of  Gray 158 

Charm  of  Madame  de  Se"vigne"'s  Letters.  —  The 

American  War 162 

America  and  the  Administration 164 

Miserable  Situation  of  England 168 

On  the  Declaration  of  Independence 171 

On  the  Suicide  of  Mr.  Darner 174 


CONTENTS. 


LV.     Gray's  Cenotaph.  —  Mason's  "  Caractacus  "      .     176 
LVI.     Concerning  Voltaire's  Abuse  of  Shakspeare  .     .     179 
LVII.     On  Sir  John  Hawkins's  "  History  of  Music  "     .     181 
LVIII.     On  Sensibility  as  a  Factor  in  Happiness  .     .     .     183 
LIX.     Discouraging  Outlook  of  Affairs  in  America  .     .     186 
LX.     Disclaiming  Responsibility  for  Chatterton's  Sui- 
cide     189 

LXI.     Advice  to  a  Dramatic  Writer 191 

LXII.     Sympathizing  with  the  Americans 194 

LXIII.     England  offers  Peace. —Retrospection      ...     196 
LXIV.     Lord  Chatham's  Last  Appearance  in  the  House 

of  Lords 199 

LXV.     Death    of     Voltaire.—  The     Uncertainty     of 

Worldly  Matters  in  general 202 

LXVI.     Infatuation  of  England 204 

LXVII.     Genius  and  Villany  of  Chatterton 208 

LXVIII.     Expression  of  Filial  Affection  and  Family  Pride     211 
LXIX.     Grief  at  the  Sale  of  the  Houghton  Pictures.  — 

Depreciation  of  Garrick 214 

LXX.     New  Difficulties  in  the  Conduct  of  the  American 

War 218 

LXXI.     Europe  paying  its  Debts  to  America    ....     222 
LXX1I.    Johnson's     Criticism      on     Gray.  —  Gibbon's 

Quarrel 225 

LXXIII.    Self-Criticism  as  an  Author 227 

LXXIV.     Differs  with    Lady   Ossory   on    the   American 

Question 

LXXV.     On  the  Surrender  of  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown     . 

'     LXXVI.     A  Visit  from  a  Learned  Editor  of  Shakspeare    . 

LXXVII.     Renewed  Motion  for  an  Address  of  Pacification 

with  America 236 

LXXVIII.     On  a  Performance  of  Southern's  "  The  Fatal 

Marriage,"  with  Mrs.  Siddons  as  Isabella       .     238 
LXXIX.     On  the  Receipt  of  Pownall's  "  Character  of  Sir 

Robert  Walpole  " 241 

LXXX.     On  the  "Good  Things"  of  Life 247 

LXXXI.     Strawberry  Hill  Landscapes 250 

LXXXII.  On  the  Publication  of  Private  Letters  .  ...  252 
LXXXIII.  Criticism  on  Poetry.  —  Madame  de  Se"vigne  .  254 
LXXXIV.  On  the  Receipt  of  "  Florio,"  dedicated  to 

himself 261 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  PAGE 

LXXXV.  Acknowledging  the  Receipt  of  a  Cameo  ...  262 

LXXXVI.     A  Chat  with  Mrs.  Siddons 266 

LXXXVII.  Concerning  Voltaire,  Mrs.  Piozzi,  and  others     .  268 

LXXXVIII.     On  Meeting  the  Misses  Berry 271 

LXXXIX.     Acceptance  of  an  Invitation 276 

XC.     On  Darwin's  "  Botanic  Garden  " 277 

XCI.  On  the  Receipt  of  "  Bishop  Bonner's  Ghost ".  279 

XCII.     With  a  Contribution  for  Charity 282 

XCIII.    A  Letter  of  Farewell 283 

XCIV.     On  Some  New  Books 286 

XCV.  On  his  Accession  to  the  Title  Earl  of  Orford     .  290 

XCVI.     On  French  Affairs 293 

XCVII.  Declining  the  Dedication  of  a  Translation  of 

Aulus  Gellius 296 

XCVIII.  With    a    Subscription.  —  Comments    on    the 

French  Revolution 298 

XCIX.  On  the  Receipt  of  "  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  "     .     .  300 

C.    Picture  of  His  Old  Age 304 


INTRODUCTION. 


EARLY  in  the  present  century  Lord  Byron  wrote, 
"  It  is  the  fashion  to  underrate  Horace  Walpole  ;  " 
and  one  has  only  to  turn  to  the  reviews  of  that 
period  to  confirm  the  truth  of  the  statement.  Suc- 
cessive volumes  of  Walpole  Letters,  appearing  at  in- 
tervals between  the  years  1798  and  1857,  when  the 
first  complete  edition  was  issued,  seem  in  general  to 
have  been  greeted  by  the  critics  with  a  half-patro- 
nizing, half-scornful  tone,  which  matched  ill  with  the 
sale  of  the  volumes  and  their  popularity  with  the  gen- 
eral public.  On  the  appearance  of  the  Montagu  col- 
lection (1818),  a  writer  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  " 
says :  "  His  mind  as  well  as  his  house  was  piled  up 
with  Dresden  china  and  illuminated  through  painted 
glass ;  he  was  the  slave  of  elegant  trifles,  and  could 
no  more  screw  himself  up  into  a  decided  and  solid 
personage  than  he  could  divest  himself  of  petty 
jealousies  and  miniature  animosities."  Macaulay's 
famous  dictum  in  the  same  Review  (1833),  "his 
mind  was  a  bundle  of  inconsistent  whims  and  affec- 
tations ;  his  features  were  covered  by  mask  within 
mask ;  when  the  outer  disguise  of  obvious  affectation 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

was  removed,  you  were  still  as  far  as  ever  from  see- 
ing the  real  man,"  is  too  well  known  to  require  fur- 
ther quotation  ;  while  still  more  recently  Thackeray 
speaks  of"  Horace's  dandified  treble,"  and  although 
referring  to  the  Letters  as  "  charming  volumes,"  it  is 
plain  what  kind  of  charm  he  has  in  mind,  —  "  Fid- 
dles sing  all  through  them ;  wax-lights,  fine  dresses, 
fine  jokes,  fine  plate,  fine  equipages  glitter  and  spar- 
kle there.  Never  was  such  a  brilliant,  jigging,  smirk- 
ing Vanity  Fair  as  that  through  which  he  leads  us." 

If  this  be  the  best  that  can  be  said  for  these  let- 
ters, why  have  they  escaped  the  rubbish-heaps  of  a 
hundred  years,  and  survived  the  numerous  changes 
of  literary  fashion,  to  claim  again  in  our  day  the 
place  they  held  with  their  contemporaries  as  choice 
examples  of  epistolary  writing?  Or  can  any  one 
read  Macaulay's  sketches  of  eighteenth- century  life 
and  character,  or  Thackeray's  "  Four  Georges," 
without  a  suspicion  that  both  Macaulay  and  Thack- 
eray were  in  conscience  bound  to  speak  more  gen- 
erously of  Walpole?  Should  the  painter  of  the 
finished  picture  ignore  the  source  of  his  outlines? 
Modern  historians  are  more  ingenuous,  and  Lecky 
and  Green,  as  well  as  others  of  lesser  note,  give  to 
Horace  Walpole  a  dignified  place  among  their 
authorities. 

Readers  who  are  content  to  take  their  opinions 
at  second-hand  are  puzzled  to  know  where  to  place 
this  man  who  has  been  so  variously  used  and  abused  ; 
while  those  who  would  gladly  judge  for  themselves 


INTRODUCTION.  1 1 

are  prevented  by  the  comparative  inaccessibility  and 
great  bulk  of  Walpole's  writings.  Not  only  did  he 
try  his  hand  at  many  things,  —  poetry,  fiction,  his- 
tory, drama,  books  on  art,  on  gardening,  on  politics, 
none  of  which  were  without  renown  in  their  day,  — 
but  his  letters  alone  amount  to  nearly  twenty-seven 
hundred  ;  and  to  undertake  to  read  them  seriatim 
seems  somewhat  appalling  to  the  average  reader.  By 
common  consent,  Walpole's  reputation  rests  mainly 
on  these  letters.  Many  of  them,  however,  are  too 
local  in  interest,  and  others  deal  too  exclusively  with 
dead  issues,  to  repay  attention.  The  present  col- 
lection aims  to  present  what  is  best  for  the  modern 
reader,  —  to  exhibit  so  much  of  the  matter  and  man- 
ner of  these  letters  as  to  enable  him  to  determine 
whether  the  writer  was  indeed  only  the  wittiest  of 
triflers  and  the  vainest  of  fops,  or  whether  the  unde- 
niable charm  he  exercised  over  his  contemporaries 
did  not  in  truth  proceed  from  some  worthier  qualities 
in  the  man. 

Whatever  faults  may  have  been  charged  against 
Walpole,  at  least  dulness  is  not  among  them.  When 
private  letters  continue  to  hold  their  charm  after 
the  lapse  of  a  hundred  years,  they  surely  have  some 
claim  to  be  counted  as  classics  in  their  kind.  The 
reader  will  need  no  "  sign- post  criticism  "  to  instruct 
him  when  and  where  to  admire ;  but  familiar  letters 
written  for  the  amusement  or  information  of  private 
friends  can  hardly  be  fully  appreciated  without  some 
knowledge  of  the  characters  both  of  the  writer  and  of 


1 2  INTRODUCTION. 

his  correspondents,  some  insight  into  the  conditions, 
domestic,  social,  and  political,  which  prevailed,  some 
introduction  to  the  small  events,  the  slight  allusions, 
and  gossip  of  the  different  groups  of  friends. 

Horace  Walpole's  life  nearly  spanned  the  eigh- 
teenth century  (171 7—1 79  7)  ;  and  few  men  in  it  were 
better  fitted  both  by  nature  and  circumstance  for 
seeing  it  both  at  its  best  and  at  its  worst.  "  I  feel 
what  I  feel,  and  say  I  feel  what  I  do  feel,"  he  says 
to  one  of  his  correspondents ;  and,  with  Macaulay's 
leave,  we  think  he  spoke  truly.  What  he  saw,  in- 
deed, was  not  always  pleasant  to  the  sight  nor  agree- 
able in  the  repetition.  From  his  earliest  days  there 
was  much  that  was  repellant  in  his  home-life.  Al- 
though his  father,  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  was  the  most 
distinguished  man  of  his  time,  —  the  prime  minister 
of  the  first  two  Georges,  —  and  although  the  tone  in 
which  the  son  says  "  my  father  "  shows  that  he  fully 
appreciated  Sir  Robert's  best  qualities,  there  could 
have  been  but  little  sympathy  between  them.  The 
son  was  delicate  in  constitution,  refined  to  fastidious- 
ness ;  the  father  was  robust,  rude,  hearty,  and  coarse. 
Not  more  gross  than  his  neighbors,  perhaps,  Sir 
Robert's  chief  distinction  in  private  life  seems  to  have 
been  his  powers  of  drinking,  toasting,  swearing  big 
oaths,  and  singing  lusty  songs.  Consider  the  suffer- 
ings of  a  young  man,  of  weak  digestion  but  strong 
aesthetic  sensibilities,  returning  to  the  paternal  man- 
sion after  an  Italian  tour  to  find  himself  in  such 
scenes  as  he  describes  to  one  of  his  artistic  friends. 


INTROD  UCTION.  1 3 

"  Only  imagine,"  he  exclaims,  "  that  I  here  every 
day  see  men  who  are  mountains  of  roast  beef,  and 
only  seem  just  roughly  hewn  out  into  outlines  of 
human  form,  like  the  giant  rock  of  Pratolino  !  I 
shudder  when  I  see  them  brandish  their  knives  in 
act  to  carve,  and  look  on  them  as  savages  that 
devour  one  another.  I  should  not  stare  at  all  more 
than  I  do  if  yonder  alderman  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  table  were  to  stick  his  fork  into  his  neighbor's 
jolly  cheek  and  cut  a  brave  slice  of  brawn  and  fat. 
Why,  I  '11  swear  I  see  no  difference  between  a  country 
gentleman  and  a  sirloin  ;  whenever  the  first  laughs, 
or  the  second  is  cut,  there  run  out  just  the  same 
streams  of  gravy  !  Indeed,  the  sirloin  does  not  ask 
quite  so  many  questions."  His  two  brothers,  Robert 
and  Edward,  were  his  seniors  by  many  years,  and 
of  such  dissolute  and  idle  habits  that  no  strong 
ties  of  brotherhood  existed  either  in  childhood  or 
in  later  life. 

With  his  mother  he  was  more  in  sympathy.  She 
was  a  beautiful  woman,  and  fond  of  admiration ;  al- 
though her  name  is  not  free  from  ugly  stories,  her 
youngest  son  always  felt  the  greatest  veneration  for 
her  memory.  Twenty  years  after  her  death,  which 
occurred  in  1737,  he  erected  a  marble  statue  to  her 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  with  an  inscription,  written 
by  himself,  commemorating  her  virtues. 

At  Eton,  whither  he  went  at  the  age  of  ten,  he 
remained  seven  years.  These  were  important  years, 
for  here  he  formed  the  friendships  which  afterwards 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

filled  a  large  place  in  his  life.  He  never  forgot  an 
Eton  schoolfellow,  and  was  always  an  Etonian  heart 
and  soul.  His  special  mates  were  Thomas  Gray, 
quiet  and  studious,  and  already  giving  signs  of  his 
future  powers  by  writing  graceful  Latin  verse  and 
reading  Virgil  for  amusement  in  his  play-hours ; 
Richard  West,  another  poetical  genius,  who  died  too 
early  in  life  to  fulfil  his  youthful  promise ;  Thomas 
Ashton,  afterwards  preacher  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  A 
"  quadruple  alliance  "  they  called  themselves,  and  in 
romantic  fashion  assumed  nicknames  and  fancied 
themselves  rulers  of  imaginary  kingdoms.  Walpole 
himself  was  Tydeus ;  Gray,  Orasmades ;  Ashton, 
Plato ;  and  West,  Almanzor.  Walpole  was  also  mem- 
ber of  a  "  triumvirate  "  with  George  and  Charles 
Montagu.  Revisiting  Eton  three  years  after  leaving 
school,  his  letter  to  George  Montagu  is  full  of  kindly 
recollections  only.  Even  the  memory  of  a  flogging 
merely  amuses  him  as  he  looks  forward  to  hearing 
Ashton  preach,  who  when  he  last  saw  him  in  chapel 
was  "  standing  funking  over  against  a  conduit  to  be 
catechised,"  and  thinks  he  "shall  certainly  be  put 
in  the  bill  for  laughing  in  the  church."  The  taste 
for  classical  reading  acquired  in  these  early  years 
remained  with  him  always. 

Another  lasting  impulse  was  given  to  his  mind  by 
a  visit  to  the  Continent,  which  began  in  March, 
1 739,  and  lasted  over  two  years.  The  greater  part  of 
the  time  was  spent  in  Italy, —  that  foster-mother  of  art 
and  antiquity ;  and  from  this  time  a  passion  for  these 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

subjects  took  complete  possession  of  him  and  formed 
the  chief  interest  of  his  years  of  maturity  and  old 
age.  A  great  deal  has  been  said  about  the  fact  that, 
after  inviting  Gray  to  be  his  companion,  they  quar- 
relled before  the  end  of  the  journey  and  parted  to 
return  home  by  different  routes.  Whether  or  not  the 
blame  was  chiefly  Walpole's,  as  he  charged  upon 
himself  after  Gray's  death,  a  reconciliation  was  after- 
wards brought  about,  and  their  correspondence  re- 
sumed on  the  old  friendly  and  familiar  terms.  Some 
of  Gray's  poems  were  first  printed  on  Walpole's 
private  press,  and  it  was  the  death  of  Walpole's  fa- 
vorite cat  that  inspired  Gray's  unique  ode  beginning : 

" '  Twas  on  this  lofty  vase's  side, 
Where  China's  gayest  art  has  dyed 

The  azure  flowers  that  blow, 
Demurest  of  the  tabby  kind, 
The  pensive  Selima  reclined, 

Gazed  on  the  lake  below." 

In  Italy  also  Walpole  formed  a  close  friendship 
with  Sir  Horace  Mann,  the  English  minister  at 
Florence ;  and  although  they  never  met  afterwards, 
an  unflagging  correspondence  was  kept  up  until 
Mann's  death,  forty-four  years  later.  Walpole's 
letters  to  him,  when  collected  and  published,  filled 
seven  octavo  volumes. 

It  was  during  this  absence  from  home,  and  while 
he  was  "  far  gone  in  medals,  lamps,  idols,  prints,  etc.," 
declaring  that  he  "  would  buy  the  Coliseum  if  he 
could,"  that  he  was  chosen  Member  for  Calling- 


1 6  INTRO  D  UCTION. 

ton  in  the  Parliament  elected  in  June,  1741.  He 
returned  to  England  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  stir- 
ring scenes  connected  with  his  father's  fall  from 
power,  and  to  win  the  praise  of  William  Pitt  for  his 
maiden  speech,  the  Great  Commoner  adding  also 
that  if  it  was  becoming  in  him  to  remember  that  he 
was  the  child  of  the  accused,  the  House  ought  to 
remember  too  that  they  were  the  children  of  their 
country.  Although  he  continued  to  hold  a  seat  in 
the  House  of  Commons  for  the  next  twenty-seven 
years,  and  although  his  descriptions  of  the  scenes  and 
the  members  furnish  some  of  the  best  history  of  the 
times,  the  position  was  little  to  his  taste,  and  except 
on  special  occasions  aroused  in  him  little  interest. 
During  all  this  time  and  later  he  omits  no  occasion 
to  express  his  disgust  with  politics  and  politicians,  — 
rather  more  than  is  becoming,  indeed,  considering 
that  from  his  childhood  he  held  sinecure  govern- 
ment offices  which  during  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
yielded  him  annually  between  six  and  seven  thousand 
pounds,  and  that  except  for  these  same  despised 
politics  he  would  have  been  unable  to  indulge  in  the 
expensive  tastes  which,  next  to  friendship,  formed 
the  chief  delight  of  his  life. 

In  friendship  Walpole's  capacity  amounted  to 
genius.  Whatever  may  be  said  —  and  much  has 
been  said  —  about  Walpole's  alienation  from  certain 
friends  at  different  times,  these  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  more  frequent  or  more  serious  than  occur  to 
most  persons  during  a  long  life  where  interests 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

clash  and  outside  distractions  intrude.  What  is  far 
more  significant,  and  can  only  mean  a  rare  capacity 
for  affection,  is  the  devotion  which  he  both  gave  and 
received  from  a  large  number  of  persons,  and  these 
some  of  the  worthiest  of  his  time.  He  neglected 
no  means  of  keeping  himself  en  rapport  with  their 
thoughts  and  interests,  he  spared  no  pains  to  share 
his  own  with  them,  even  carrying  bits  of  paper  and 
letter-backs  in  his  pockets  to  note  down  any  items 
of  news,  witticisms,  or  entertaining  anecdotes,  as 
material  for  his  letters.  Friendships  between  men, 
especially  men  immersed  in  public  life,  are  by  no 
means  so  common  that  we  can  afford  to  ignore  so 
shining  an  example  as  that  of  Horace  Walpole  and 
his  cousin,  Marshal  Henry  S.  Conway.  Dating  back 
to  the  old  Eton  days,  and  continuing  until  Conway's 
death,  which  preceded  Walpole's  by  four  years, 
there  was  no  break  in  the  tender  confidence  and 
loyal  fellowship  of  the  two  men.  Conway's  career, 
both  as  soldier  and  statesman,  was  not  without  the 
usual  vicissitudes  of  those  callings.  When  an  unsuc- 
cessful military  expedition  called  down  public  censure 
upon  Conway,  Walpole's  pen  came  eagerly  to  the  res- 
cue to  exempt  his  friend  from  any  responsibility  for 
the  failure.  When  Conway's  fortune  was  impaired  by 
the  loss  of  certain  government  positions,  Walpole  in- 
sisted on  repairing  the  loss  by  sharing  with  his  friend 
his  own  fortune.  The  issue  proved  this  to  be  un- 
necessary ;  but  Conway,  writing  of  it  to  his  brother, 
said  :  "  Horace  Walpole  has  on  this  occasion  shown 


1 8  INTRODUCTION. 

that  warmth  of  friendship,  that  you  know  him  capable 
of,  so  strongly  that  I  want  words  to  express  my  sense 
of  it."  George  Selwyn  was  another,  with  whom  an 
unclouded  friendship,  beginning  at  eight  years  old, 
extended  through  life. 

Walpole's  most  notable  friendships  with  women 
belong  to  the  later  part  of  his  life.  His  correspond- 
ence with  the  Countess  of  Ossory  covers  a  period  of 
twenty-eight  years,  and  extends  to  over  four  hundred 
letters.  She  is  said  to  have  been  "possessed  of 
a  lively  imagination,  quick  discernment,  ready  wit, 
great  vivacity  both  in  conversation  and  writing." 
Still  nearer  to  his  heart  were  the  Berry  sisters,  Mary 
and  Agnes,  —  his  "  twin  wives,"  as  he  was  fond  of 
calling  them.  He  was  their  senior  by  nearly  fifty 
years,  but  their  society  was  the  great  solace  of  his 
declining  days.  Every  Sunday  evening,  together 
with  their  father,  they  came  to  his  house ;  he  estab- 
lished them  in  "  Little  Strawberry,"  in  order  to  have 
them  always  near,  bequeathing  it  to  them,  for  their 
joint  lives,  at  his  death.  The  uncompleted  task  of 
collecting  and  publishing  his  works,  which  he  also 
left  to  them,  was  accomplished  the  year  after  his 
death,  when  they  appeared  in  an  edition  of  five  vol- 
umes. Mrs.  Hannah  More,  also  many  years  his 
junior,  was  another  choice  spirit  who  cheered  these 
later  days.  "  Neither  years  nor  suffering,"  she  wrote 
to  her  sister,  "can  abate  the  entertaining  powers 
of  the  pleasant  Horace,  which  rather  improve  than 
decay."  Madame  du  Deffand  was  an  admirer  of  a 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

more  effusive  kind ;  but  that  her  sentiment  was 
based  on  intellectual  sympathy  is  shown  by  her 
bequest  to  him  of  the  whole  of  her  manuscripts, 
letters,  and  books  of  every  description.  She  is  the 
"  dear  old  friend  "  so  often  alluded  to  in  his  letters, 
and  for  whose  sake  he  sometimes  visited  Paris,  often 
at  great  pain  and  inconvenience  to  himself. 

But  next  in  his  heart  to  these  "  troops  of  friends  " 
was  Strawberry  Hill.  "  A  little  plaything  house  "  he 
described  it  when  he  first  took  possession,  shortly  be- 
fore his  thirtieth  birthday ;  it  is  now  counted  among 
the  historic  houses  of  England,  owing  to  the  artistic 
and  literary  interest  he  caused  to  gather  about  it. 
It  is  hardly  probable  that  he  had  any  complete  or 
original  design  at  the  outset ;  the  form  it  gradually 
assumed  was  in  a  great  measure  the  result  of  caprice 
or  accident :  what  he  sought  was  not  an  imposing 
structure  or  commodious  house,  but  one  in  which 
his  peculiar  tastes  might  be  indulged,  and  his  hete 
rogeneous  collection  appear  somewhat  in  harmony. 
If  he  had  any  suspicion  that  his  house -building  ex- 
periments were  to  have  any  lasting  influence  on 
architecture,  there  is  no  evidence  of  it.  On  the 
contrary,  he  wrote  (1761)  :  "My  buildings  are 
paper,  like  my  writings,  and  both  will  be  blown 
away  ten  years  after  I  am  dead.  If  they  had  not 
the  substantial  merit  of  amusing  me  while  I  live, 
they  would  be  worth  little  indeed."  He  builded 
better  than  he  knew.  He  revived  in  men's  minds 
an  almost  forgotten  style.  Eastlake,  in  his  "  History 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

of  the  Gothic  Revival,"  says :  "  Walpole's  Gothic, 
though  far  from  reflecting  the  beauties  of  a  former 
age  or  anticipating  those  which  were  destined  to 
proceed  from  a  development  of  the  style,  still  holds 
a  position  in  the  history  of  English  art  which  com- 
mands our  respect,  for  it  served  to  sustain  a  cause 
which  had  otherwise  been  wellnigh  forsaken." 

One  of  the  most  valued  appointments  of  Straw- 
berry Hill  was  his  printing-press,  which  he  set  up  in 
June,  1757.  Indeed,  he  enjoyed  considering  him- 
self as  printer  rather  than  author.  When  besought 
to  furnish  material  for  a  Life  of  himself  for  the  forth- 
coming "  Biographia  Literaria  "  (i  773),  he  answered  : 
"  My  writings  are  not  of  a  class  or  merit  to  enti- 
tle me  to  any  distinction.  ...  If  I  have  any  merit 
with  the  public,  it  is  for  printing  and  preserving 
some  valuable  works  of  others ;  and  if  ever  you 
write  the  lives  of  printers,  I  may  be  enrolled  in  the 
number."  In  general,  his  own  works  were  issued 
by  this  press ;  in  some  cases,  however,  as  with  the 
"Castle  of  Otranto,"  he  preferred  ordinary  publi- 
cation, in  order  to  preserve  anonymity  until  suc- 
cess was  assured. 

In  1 79 1,  by  the  death  of  his  nephew,  Horace  Wai- 
pole  became  Earl  of  Orford.  He  was  the  fourth 
and  last  to  bear  the  title  which  had  been  created 
for  his  illustrious  father.  Robert,  his  elder  brother, 
had  survived  the  father  only  six  years.  George,  his 
son,  the  third  earl,  lived  for  forty  years,  to  inter- 
sperse his  frequent  spells  of  insanity  with  a  depraved 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

sanity  which  was  perhaps  even  more  trying  to  his 
relatives  than  his  disease.  The  new  honor  was  a 
minor  incident  which  Walpole  deplored  rather  than 
welcomed.  "  Surely,"  he  wrote,  "  a  man  of  seventy- 
four,  unless  superannuated,  can  have  the  smallest 
pleasure  in  sitting  at  home  in  his  own  room  and 
being  called  by  a  new  name  !  .  .  .  For  the  empty 
title  I  trust  you  do  not  suppose  it  is  anything  but  an 
encumbrance,  by  larding  my  busy  mornings  with  idle 
visits  of  interruption,  and  which,  when  I  am  able  to 
go  out,  I  shall  be  forced  to  return." 

A  complete  biography  of  Horace  Walpole  would 
be  almost  synonymous  with  a  history  of  the  aris- 
tocratic and  fashionable  world  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  occasional  glimpses  at  contemporary 
literature,  art,  and  politics.  There  are  many  reasons 
for  his  great  contemporary  popularity.  As  the  son 
of  a  prime  minister  who  exercised  with  a  strong 
hand  the  powers  of  a  constitutional  monarch,  he  was 
early  brought  into  association  with  the  most  distin- 
guished men  of  his  time ;  as  a  cultivated  man  of 
the  world,  he  attracted  to  himself  a  coterie  brilliant 
in  rank,  beauty,  and  accomplishments ;  as  the  owner 
of  a  Gothic  castle  and  a  private  printing-press,  he 
was  a  power  among  artists  and  men  of  letters.  He 
was  perhaps  as  much  overrated  in  his  life  as  he  was 
underrated  in  the  generation  after  his  death. 

But  Horace  Walpole's  place  in  literature  is  not  to 
be  settled  either  by  the  splendor  of  his  social  state 
and  surroundings,  or  by  a  criticism  that  had  not 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

risen  to  a  conception  that  one  of  its  first  requisites 
is  sympathy.  He  was  not  a  great  original  thinker, 
nor  even  an  infallible  judge  of  men  and  books ;  he 
was  probably  somewhat  dishonest  as  a  politician. 
But  he  was  a  great  master  in  what  was  a  high  art  in 
his  day,  but  which  is  wellnigh  lost  in  our  own.  The 
art  of  letter-writing  survives,  if  it  survives  at  all,  only 
among  women.  It  is  one  we  can  ill  afford  to  spare 
either  from  literature  or  from  life.  If  it  is  ever 
again  to  be  cultivated,  we  shall  turn  to  Horace  Wai- 
pole  as  one  of  the  best  models.  He  had  the  gift 
of  seeing  what  went  on  about  him,  and  of  telling 
what  he  saw.  Added  to  this  was  a  fertile  fancy,  a 
memory  richly  stored  with  illustrations,  and  a  skill  in 
the  use  of  metaphor  which  saved  many  a  circumlocu- 
tion. His  style  arrests  attention  and  invests  even 
the  commonest  incidents  with  a  charm.  It  is  play- 
ful and  discursive,  but  never  silly  or  inconsequent. 
The  criticism  which  cast  these  letters  aside  as  ephe- 
meral has  shown  the  foolishness  of  prophesying,  for 
the  sympathetic  reader  of  to-day  finds  that  age 
cannot  wither  them,  nor  custom  stale  their  infinite 
variety. 

A.  B.  McM. 
August,  1890. 


THE  BEST  LETTERS 


HORACE     WALPOLE. 


THE  BEST  LETTERS 


HORACE     WALPOLE. 


PLEASURES  OF  YOUTH,   AND  YOUTHFUL 
RECOLLECTIONS. 

To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

KING'S  COLLEGE,  May  6,  1736. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  I  agree  with  you  entirely  in 
the  pleasure  you  take  in  talking  over  old  stories, 
but  can't  say  but  I  meet  every  day  with  new  circum- 
stances, which  will  be  still  more  pleasure  to  me  to 
recollect.  I  think  at  our  age  't  is  excess  of  joy  to 
think,  while  we  are  running  over  past  happinesses, 
that  it  is  still  in  our  power  to  enjoy  as  great.  Nar- 
rations of  the  greatest  actions  of  other  people  are 
tedious  in  comparison  of  the  serious  trifles  that 
every  man  can  call  to  mind  of  himself  while  he  was 
learning  those  histories.  Youthful  passages  of  life 
are  the  chippings  of  Pitt's  diamond  *  set  into  little 
heart-rings  with  mottoes,  —  the  stone  itself  more 
worth,  the  filings  more  gentle  and  agreeable. 

1  Diamond  sold  by  Thomas  Pitt  to  the  Regent  Duke  of 
Orleans.  The  chippings  alone  were  valued  at  .£10,000. 


26  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Alexander,  at  the  head  of  the  world,  never  tasted 
the  true  pleasure  that  boys  of  his  own  age  have  en- 
joyed at  the  head  of  a  school.  Little  intrigues,  little 
schemes  and  policies  engage  their  thoughts ;  and  at 
the  same  time  that  they  are  laying  the  foundation 
for  their  middle  age  of  life,  the  mimic  republic  they 
live  in  furnishes  materials  of  conversation  for  their 
latter  age ;  and  old  men  cannot  be  said  to  be  chil- 
dren a  second  time  with  greater  truth  from  any  one 
cause,  than  their  living  over  again  their  childhood  in 
imagination.  To  reflect  on  the  season  when  first 
they  felt  the  titillation  of  love,  the  budding  passions, 
and  the  first  dear  object  of  their  wishes  !  How,  unex- 
perienced, they  gave  credit  to  all  the  tales  of  roman- 
tic loves  !  Dear  George,  were  not  the  playing  fields 
at  Eton  food  for  all  manner  of  flights?  No  old 
maid's  gown,  though  it  had  been  tormented  into  all 
the  fashions  from  King  James  to  King  George,  ever 
underwent  so  many  transformations  as  those  poor 
plains  have  in  my  idea.  At  first  I  was  contented 
with  tending  a  visionary  flock,  and  sighing  some 
pastoral  name  to  the  echo  of  the  cascade  under  the 
bridge.  How  happy  should  I  have  been  to  have 
had  a  kingdom  only  for  the  pleasure  of  being  driven 
from  it,  and  living  disguised  in  an  humble  vale  ! 
As  I  got  further  into  Virgil  and  Clelia,  I  found  my- 
self transported  from  Arcadia  to  the  garden  of  Italy, 
and  saw  Windsor  Castle  in  no  other  view  than  the 
Capitoli  immobile  saxum.  I  wish  a  committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons  may  ever  seem  to  be  the 
senate  ;  or  a  bill  appear  half  so  agreeable  as  a  billet- 
doux.  You  see  how  deep  you  have  carried  me  into 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  27 

old  stories ;  I  write  of  them  with  pleasure,  but  shall 
talk  of  them  with  more  to  you.  I  can't  say  I  am 
sorry  I  was  never  quite  a  schoolboy  :  an  expedition 
against  bargemen,  or  a  match  at  cricket,  may  be 
very  pretty  things  to  recollect ;  but,  thank  my  stars, 
I  can  remember  things  that  are  very  near  as  pretty. 
The  beginning  of  my  Roman  history  was  spent  in 
the  asylum,  or  conversing  in  Egeria's  hallowed 
grove, —  not  in  thumping  and  pummelling  king  Amu- 
lius's  herdsmen.  I  was  sometimes  troubled  with  a 
rough  creature  or  two  from  the  plough,  —  one  that 
one  should  have  thought  had  worked  with  his  head 
as  well  as  his  hands,  they  were  both  so  callous.  One 
of  the  most  agreeable  circumstances  I  can  recollect 
is  the  Triumvirate,  composed  of  yourself,  Charles, 
and  Your  sincere  friend. 


II. 

MOUNTAINS  OF  SAVOY.  —  GRANDE-CHARTREUSE. 
To  Richard  West,  Esq. 

FROM  A  HAMLET  AMONG  THE 

MOUNTAINS  OF  SAVOY,  Sept.  28,  1739,  N.  S. 

PRECIPICES,  mountains,  torrents,  wolves,  rumblings, 
Salvator  Rosa  —  the  pomp  of  our  park  and  the 
meekness  of  our  palace  !  Here  we  are,  the  lonely 
lords  of  glorious,  desolate  prospects.  I  have  kept 
a  sort  of  resolution  which  I  made  of  not  writing  to 
you  as  long  as  I  stayed  in  France ;  I  am  now  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  out  of  it,  and  write  to  you. 


28  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Mind,  't  is  three  months  since  we  heard  from  you. 
I  begin  this  letter  among  the  clouds ;  where  I  shall 
finish,  my  neighbor,  Heaven,  probably  knows  :  't  is 
an  odd  wish  in  a  mortal  letter  to  hope  not  to  finish 
it  on  this  side  the  atmosphere.  You  will  have  a 
billet  tumble  to  you  from  the  stars  when  you  least 
think  of  it ;  and  that  I  should  write  it  too  !  Lord, 
how  potent  that  sounds  !  But  I  am  to  undergo  many 
transmigrations  before  I  came  to  "yours  ever." 
Yesterday  I  was  a  shepherd  of  Dauphine  ;  to-day  an 
Alpine  savage ;  to-morrow  a  Carthusian  monk ;  and 
Friday  a  Swiss  Calvinist.  I  have  one  quality  which 
I  find  remains  with  me  in  all  worlds  and  in  all 
aethers ;  I  brought  it  with  me  from  your  world,  and 
am  admired  for  it  in  this,  —  't  is  my  esteem  for  you. 
This  is  a  common  thought  among  you,  and  you  will 
laugh  at  it ;  but  it  is  new  here,  —  as  new  to  remem- 
ber one's  friends  in  the  world  one  has  left,  as  for  you 
to  remember  those  you  have  lost. 

Aix  IN  SAVOY,  Sept.  y>th. 

WE  are  this  minute  come  in  here,  and  here  's  an 
awkward  abbd  this  minute  come  in  to  us.  I  asked 
him  if  he  would  sit  down.  Out,  out,  out.  He  has 
ordered  us  a  radish  soup  for  supper,  and  has  brought 
a  chess-board  to  play  with  Mr.  Conway.  I  have 
left  'em  in  the  act,  and  am  set  down  to  write  to 
you.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  the  prospect 
we  saw  yesterday?  I  never  did.  We  rode  three 
leagues  to  see  the  Grande-Chartreuse;  expected 
bad  roads  and  the  finest  convent  in  the  kingdom. 
We  were  disappointed  pro  and  con.  The  building 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  29 

is  large  and  plain,  and  has  nothing  remarkable  but 
its  primitive  simplicity ;  they  entertained  us  in  the 
neatest  manner  with  eggs,  pickled  salmon,  dried 
fish,  conserves,  cheese,  butter,  grapes,  and  figs, 
and  pressed  us  mightily  to  lie  there.  We  tumbled 
into  the  hands  of  a  lay-brother,  who,  unluckily 
having  the  charge  of  the  meal  and  bran,  showed  us 
little  besides.  They  desired  us  to  set  down  our 
names  in  the  list  of  strangers,  where,  among  others, 
we  found  two  mottoes  of  our  countrymen,  for  whose 
stupidity  and  brutality  we  blushed.  The  first  was 

of  Sir  J D ,  who   had   wrote   down  the 

first  stanza  of  Jus -turn  et  tenacem,  altering  the  last 
line  to  Mente  quatit  Carthusiana.  The  second  was 

of  one  D ,  Cesium  ipsum  petimus  stultitid  ;  et 

hie  ventri  indico  bellum.  The  Goth !  But  the 
road,  West,  the  road  !  winding  round  a  prodigious 
mountain,  and  surrounded  with  others,  all  shagged 
with  hanging  woods,  obscured  with  pines,  or  lost  in 
clouds  !  Below,  a  torrent  breaking  through  cliffs, 
and  tumbling  through  fragments  of  rocks  !  Sheets 
of  cascades  forcing  their  silver  speed  down  chan- 
nelled precipices,  and  hasting  into  the  roughened 
river  at  the  bottom  !  Now  and  then  an  old  foot- 
bridge, with  a  broken  rail,  a  leaning  cross,  a  cottage, 
or  the  ruin  of  an  hermitage  !  This  sounds  too  bom- 
bast and  too  romantic  to  one  that  has  not  seen  it, 
too  cold  for  one  that  has.  If  I  could  send  you  my 
letter  post  between  two  lovely  tempests  that  echoed 
each  other's  wrath,  you  might  have  some  idea  of  this 
noble  roaring  scene  as  you  were  reading  it.  Almost 
on  the  summit,  upon  a  fine  verdure,  but  without 


30  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

any  prospect,  stands  the  Chartreuse.  We  stayed 
there  two  hours,  rode  back  through  this  charming 
picture,  wished  for  a  painter,  wished  to  be  poets  ! 
Need  I  tell  you  we  wished  for  you  ?  Good  night. 


III. 


SIR    ROBERT    WALPOLE'S     RESIGNATION.  —  CREATED 
EARL  OF  ORFORD. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

LONDON,  Feb.  4,  1741-42. 

I  AM  miserable  that  I  have  not  more  time  to 
write  to  you,  especially  as  you  will  want  to  know  so 
much  of  what  I  have  to  tell  you ;  but  for  a  week  or 
fortnight  I  shall  be  so  hurried  that  I  shall  scarce 
know  what  I  say.  I  sit  here  writing  to  you  and 
receiving  all  the  town  who  flock  to  this  house ;  Sir 
Robert  has  already  had  three  levies  this  morning, 
and  the  rooms  still  overflowing  —  they  overflow  up 
to  me.  You  will  think  this  the  prelude  to  some 
victory  !  On  the  contrary,  when  you  receive  this, 
there  will  be  no  longer  a  Sir  Robert  Walpole ;  you 
must  know  him  for  the  future  by  the  title  of  Earl  of 
Orford.  That  other  envied  name  expires  next 
week  with  his  Ministry  ! 

Preparatory  to  this  change  I  should  tell  you  that 
last  week  we  heard  in  the  House  of  Commons  the 
Chippenham  election,  when  Jack  Frederick  and 
his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Hume,  on  our  side,  peti- 
tioned against  Sir  Edmund  Thomas  and  Mr.  Bayn- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  31 

ton  Rolt.  Both  sides  made  it  the  decisive  question, 
but  our  people  were  not  all  equally  true ;  and 
upon  the  previous  question  we  had  but  235  against 
236,  so  lost  it  by  one.  From  that  time  my  broth- 
ers, my  uncle,  I,  and  some  of  his  particular  friends, 
persuaded  Sir  R.  to  resign.  He  was  undetermined 
till  Sunday  night.  Tuesday  we  were  to  finish  the 
election,  when  we  lost  it  by  sixteen ;  upon  which 
Sir  Robert  declared  to  some  particular  persons  in 
the  House  his  resolution  to  retire,  and  had  that 
morning  sent  the  Prince  of  Wales  notice  of  it.  It 
is  understood  from  the  heads  of  the  party  that 
nothing  more  is  to  be  pursued  against  him.  Yes- 
terday (Wednesday)  the  King  adjourned  both 
Houses  for  a  fortnight,  for  time  to  settle  things. 
Next  week  Sir  Robert  resigns  and  goes  into  the 
House  of  Lords.  The  only  change  yet  fixed  is  that 
Lord  Wilmington  is  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  Treas- 
ury ;  but  numberless  other  alterations  and  con- 
fusions must  follow.  The  Prince  will  be  reconciled, 
and  the  Whig-patriots  will  come  in.  There  were  a 
few  bonfires  last  night,  but  they  are  very  unfash- 
ionable, for  never  was  fallen  minister  so  followed. 
When  he  kissed  the  King's  hand  to  take  his  first 
leave,  the  King  fell  on  his  neck,  wept,  and  kissed 
him,  and  begged  to  see  him  frequently.  He  will 
continue  in  town  and  assist  the  Ministry  in  the  Lords. 
Mr.  Pelham  has  declared  that  he  will  accept  noth- 
ing that  was  Sir  Robert's ;  and  this  moment  the 
Duke  of  Richmond  has  been  here  from  Court  to 
tell  Sir  R.  that  he  had  resigned  the  Mastership  of 
the  Horse,  having  received  it  from  him  unasked, 


32  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

and  that  he  would  not  keep  it  beyond  his  Ministry. 
This  is  the  greater  honor,  as  it  was  so  unexpected, 
and  as  he  had  no  personal  friendship  with  the 
Duke. 

For  myself,  I  am  quite  happy  to  be  free  from  all 
the  fatigue,  envy,  and  uncertainty  of  our  late 
situation.  I  go  everywhere,  indeed,  to  have  the 
stare  over,  and  to  use  myself  to  neglect ;  but  I  meet 
nothing  but  civilities.  Here  have  been  Lord  Har- 
tington,  Coke,  and  poor  Fitzwilliam,  and  others 
crying ;  here  has  been  Lord  Deskford  and  numbers 
to  wish  me  joy,  —  in  short,  it  is  a  most  extraordinary 
and  various  scene. 

There  are  three  people  whom  I  pity  much,  —  the 
King,  Lord  Wilmington,  and  my  own  sister :  *  the 
first,  for  the  affront,  to  be  forced  to  part  with  his 
minister,  and  to  be  forced  to  forgive  his  son ;  the 
second,  as  he  is  too  old,  and  (even  when  he  was 
young)  unfit  for  the  burden ;  and  the  poor  girl, 
who  must  be  created  an  earl's  daughter,  as  her 
birth  would  deprive  her  of  the  rank.  She  must 
kiss  hands  and  bear  the  flirts  of  impertinent  real 
quality. 

I  am  invited  to  dinner  to-day  by  Lord  Strafford,2 
Argyll's  son-in-law.  You  see  we  shall  grow  the 
fashion. 

1  Maria,  natural  daughter  of  Sir  R.  W.  by  Maria  Skerret, 
his   mistress,   whom   he   afterwards    married.      She    had  a 
patent  to  take  place  as  an  earl's  daughter. 

2  William  Wentworth,  second  Earl  of  Strafford,  of  the 
second  creation,  Walpole's  correspondent  and  neighbor  at 
Twickenham.     He   married   Lady  Anne   Campbell,  second 
daughter  of  John,  Duke  of  Argyll. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  33 

My  dear  child,  these  are  the  most  material 
points ;  1  am  sensible  how  much  you  must  want 
particulars,  but  you  must  be  sensible,  too,  that  just 
yet  I  have  not  time. 

Don't  be  uneasy.  Your  brother  Ned  has  been 
here  to  wish  me  joy;  your  brother  Gal.  has  been 
here  and  cried.  Your  tender  nature  will  at  first 
make  you  like  the  latter;  but  afterwards  you  will 
rejoice  with  your  elder  and  me.  Adieu !  Yours 
ever  and  the  same. 


IV. 

ON   HIS    FATHER'S  DEATH. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,1  April  15,  1745. 
BY  this  time  you  have  heard  of  my  Lord's  death ; 
I  fear  it  will  have  been  a  very  great  shock  to  you. 
I  hope  your  brother  will  write  you  all  the  particu- 
lars ;  for  my  part,  you  can't  expect  I  should  enter 
into  the  details  of  it.  His  enemies  pay  him  the 
compliment  of  saying,  "  they  do  believe  now  that 
he  did  not  plunder  the  public,  as  he  was  accused 
(as  they  accused  him)  of  doing,  he  having  died  in 
such  circumstances."  If  he  had  no  proofs  of  his 
honesty  but  this,  I  don't  think  this  would  be  such 
indisputable  authority;  not  leaving  immense  riches 

1  The  Arlington  Street  house  was  left  by  Sir  Robert 
Walpole  to  his  son  Horace,  who  made  it  his  chief  town- 
house  until  his  death. 


34  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

would  be  scanty  evidence  of  his  not  having  acquired 
them,  there  happening  to  be  such  a  thing  as  spend- 
ing them.  It  is  certain  he  is  dead  very  poor :  his 
debts,  with  his  legacies,  which  are  trifling,  amount 
to  fifty  thousand  pounds;  his  estate,  a  nominal 
eight  thousand  a-year,  much  mortgaged.  In  short, 
his  fondness  for  Houghton  has  endangered  Hough- 
ton.1  If  he  had  not  so  overdone  it,  he  might  have 
left  such  an  estate  to  his  family  as  might  have 
secured  the  glory  of  the  place  for  many  years ; 
another  such  debt  must  expose  it  to  sale.  If  he 
had  lived,  his  unbounded  generosity  and  contempt 
of  money  would  have  run  him  into  vast  difficulties. 
However  irreparable  his  personal  loss  may  be  to 
his  friends,  he  certainly  died  critically  well  for  him- 
self: he  had  lived  to  stand  the  rudest  trials  with 
honor,  to  see  his  character  universally  cleared,  his 
enemies  brought  to  infamy  for  their  ignorance  or 
villany,  and  the  world  allowing  him  to  be  the  only 
man  in  England  fit  to  be  what  he  had  been;  and 
he  died  at  a  time  when  his  age  and  infirmities 
prevented  his  again  undertaking  the  support  of  a 
government  which  engrossed  his  whole  care,  and 
which  he  foresaw  was  falling  into  the  last  confusion. 
In  this  I  hope  his  judgment  failed  !  His  fortune 
attended  him  to  the  last ;  for  he  died,  of  the  most 
painful  of  all  distempers,  with  little  or  no  pain.  .  .  . 

1  In  the  county  of  Norfolk,  and  the  ancestral  home  of  the 
Wai  poles. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  35 


V. 


ENCLOSING  GRAY'S  ODE  "ON  A  DISTANT  PROSPECT 
OF   ETON  COLLEGE " 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Con-way. 

WINDSOR  (still),  Oct.  3,  1746. 

MY  DEAR  HARRY,  —  You  ask  me  if  I  am  really 
grown  a  philosopher.  Really  I  believe  not ;  for  I 
shall  refer  you  to  my  practice  rather  than  to  my 
doctrine,  and  have  really  acquired  what  they  only 
pretend  to  seek,  —  content.  So  far,  indeed,  I  was 
a  philosopher  even  when  I  lived  in  town,  for  then  I 
was  content  too ;  and  all  the  difference  I  can  con- 
ceive between  those  two  opposite  doctors  was  that 
Aristippus  loved  London,  and  Diogenes  Windsor ; 
and  if  your  master  the  Duke,  whom  I  sincerely 
prefer  to  Alexander,  and  who  certainly  can  inter- 
cept more  sunshine,  would  but  stand  out  of  my 
way,  which  he  is  extremely  in  while  he  lives  in  the 
Park  here,1  I  should  love  my  little  tub  of  forty 
pounds  a  year  more  than  my  palace  dans  la  rue 
des  ministres,  with  all  my  pictures  and  bronzes, 
which  you  ridiculously  imagine  I  have  encumbered 
myself  with  in  my  solitude.  Solitude  it  is  as  to  the 
tub  itself,  for  no  soul  lives  in  it  with  me,  —  though  I 
could  easily  give  you  room  at  the  butt-end  of  it, 
and  with  vast  pleasure ;  but  George  Montagu,  who 
perhaps  is  a  philosopher  too,  though  I  am  sure  not 

1  William  Augustus,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  third  son  of 
George  the  Second,  was  at  his  Lodge  with  a  noisy  train. 


36          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

of  Pythagoras's  silent  sect,  lives  but  two  barrels  off; 
and  Ashton,  a  Christian  philosopher  of  our  acquain- 
tance, lives  at  the  foot  of  that  hill  which  you  men- 
tion with  a  melancholy  satisfaction  that  always 
attends  the  reflection.  Apropos,  here  is  an  Ode 
on  the  very  subject,  which  I  desire  you  will  please 
to  like  excessively.1 

You  will  immediately  conclude,  out  of  good 
breeding,  that  it  is  mine,  and  that  it  is  charming. 
I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  first  thought, 
but  desire  you  will  retain  only  the  second ;  for  it  is 
Mr.  Gray's,  and  not  your  humble  servant's. 


VI. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  STRAWBERRY  HILL.  -  DISSOLUTION 
OF  PARLIAMENT.  —  MEASURES  FOR  CARRYING  THE 
ELECTIONS. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

TWICKENHAM,  June  8,  1747. 

You  perceive  by  my  date  that  I  am  got  into  a 
new  camp,  and  have  left  my  tub  at  Windsor.  It  is 
a  little  plaything- house  that  I  got  out  of  Mrs.  Chene- 
vix's 2  shop,  and  is  the  prettiest  bauble  you  ever  saw. 
It  is  set  in  enamelled  meadows,  with  filigree  hedges  : 

1  The  Ode  on  a  Distant  Prospect  of  Eton  College,  which 
follows  here,  was  not  printed  until  the  following  year. 

2  Mrs.  Chenevix,  of  whom  Walpole  bought  the  property, 
was  a  dealer  in  toys. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   W ALP  OLE.  37 

A  small  Euphrates  through  the  piece  is  roll'd, 
And  little  finches  wave  their  wings  in  gold. 

Two  delightful  roads,  that  you  would  call  dusty, 
supply  me  continually  with  coaches  and  chaises ; 
barges  as  solemn  as  Barons  of  the  Exchequer  move 
under  my  window ;  Richmond  Hill  and  Ham  walks 
bound  my  prospect ;  but,  thank  God  !  the  Thames 
is  between  me  and  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry.1 
Dowagers  as  plenty  as  flounders  inhabit  all  around, 
and  Pope's  ghost  is  just  now  skimming  under  my 
window  by  a  most  poetical  moonlight.  I  have 
about  land  enough  to  keep  such  a  farm  as  Noah's 
when  he  set  up  in  the  ark  with  a  pair  of  each  kind ; 
but  my  cottage  is  rather  cleaner  than  I  believe  his 
was  after  they  had  been  cooped  up  together  forty 
days.  The  Chenevixes  had  tricked  it  out  for  them- 
selves ;  up  two  pair  of  stairs  is  what  they  call  Mr. 
Chenevix's  library,  furnished  with  three  maps,  one 
shelf,  a  bust  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  a  lame  tele- 
scope without  any  glasses.  Lord  John  Sackville 
predecessed  me  here,  and  instituted  certain  games 
called  cricketalia,  which  have  been  celebrated  this 
very  evening  in  honor  of  him  in  a  neighboring 
meadow. 

You  will  think  I  have  removed  my  philosophy 
from  Windsor  with  my  tea-things  hither ;  for  I  am 
writing  to  you  in  all  this  tranquillity  while  a  Parlia- 
ment is  bursting  about  my  ears.  You  know  it  is 
going  to  be  dissolved.  I  am  told  you  are  taken 

1  Catherine  Hyde,  great  granddaughter  of  Lord  Chancellor 
Clarendon,  —  a  woman  of  great  eccentricities  in  speech  and 
dress. 


38  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

care  of,  though  I  don't  know  where,  nor  whether 
anybody  that  chooses  you  will  quarrel  with  me 
because  he  does  choose  you,  as  that  little  bug  the 
Marquis  of  Rockingham  did,  —  one  of  the  calamities 
of  my  life  which  I  have  bore  as  abominably  well  as 
I  do  most  about  which  I  don't  care.  They  say  the 
Prince  has  taken  up  two  hundred  thousand  pounds, 
to  carry  elections  which  he  won't  carry;  he  had 
much  better  have  saved  it  to  buy  the  Parliament 
after  it  is  chosen.  A  new  set  of  peers  are  in  embryo, 
to  add  more  dignity  to  the  silence  of  the  House  of 
Lords. 

I  make  no  remarks  on  your  campaign,1  because, 
as  you  say,  you  do  nothing  at  all,  —  which,  though 
very  proper  nutriment  for  a  thinking  head,  does 
not  do  quite  so  well  to  write  upon.  If  any  one 
of  you  can  but  contrive  to  be  shot  upon  your  post, 
it  is  all  we  desire,  shall  look  upon  it  as  a  great  curi- 
osity, and  will  take  care  to  set  up  a  monument  to 
the  person  so  slain ;  as  we  are  doing  by  vote  to 
Captain  Cornewall,  who  was  killed  at  the  beginning 
of  the  action  in  the  Mediterranean  four  years  ago. 
In  the  present  dearth  of  glory,  he  is  canonized; 
though,  poor  man  !  he  had  been  tried  twice  the  year 
before  for  cowardice.2 

I  could  tell  you  much  election  news,  none  else ; 
though  not  being  thoroughly  attentive  to  so  impor- 
tant  a  subject  as,  to  be  sure,  one  ought  to  be,  I 

1  Mr.  Conway  was  in  Flanders  with  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland. 

2  On    charges    that  were    proved    groundless    on    both 
occasions. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  39 

might  now  and  then  mistake,  and  give  you  a  candi- 
date for  Durham  in  place  of  one  for  Southampton, 
or  name  the  returning  officer  instead  of  the  candi- 
date. In  general,  I  believe,  it  is  much  as  usual,  — 
those  sold  in  detail  that  afterwards  will  be  sold  in 
the  representation ;  the  ministers  bribing  Jacobites 
to  choose  friends  of  their  own ;  the  name  of  well- 
wishers  to  the  present  establishment,  and  patriots 
outbidding  ministers  that  they  may  make  the  better 
market  of  their  own  patriotism  :  in  short,  all  Eng- 
land, under  some  name  or  other,  is  just  now  to  be 
bought  and  sold ;  though  whenever  we  become 
posterity  and  forefathers,  we  shall  be  in  high  repute 
for  wisdom  and  virtue.  My  great-great-grandchil- 
dren will  figure  me  with  a  white  beard  down  to  my 
girdle,  and  Mr.  Pitt's  will  believe  him  unspotted 
enough  to  have  walked  over  nine  hundred  hot  plough- 
shares without  hurting  the  sole  of  his  foot.  How 
merry  my  ghost  will  be,  and  shake  its  ears  to  hear 
itself  quoted  as  a  person  of  consummate  prudence  ! 
Adieu,  dear  Harry  ! 

Yours  ever. 


VII. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  STRAWBERRY  HILL.  —  CLANDESTINE 
MARRIAGE   BILL.  —  EXECUTION  OF  DR.    CAMERON. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HiUL,June  12,  1753. 
I  COULD  not  rest  any  longer  with  the  thought  of 
your  having  no  idea  of  a  place  of  which  you  hear  so 


40  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

much,  and  therefore  desired  Mr.  Bentley  1  to  draw 
you  as  much  idea  of  it  as  the  post  would  be  per- 
suaded to  carry  from  Twickenham  to  Florence.  The 
enclosed  enchanted  little  landscape,  then,  is  Straw- 
berry Hill ;  and  I  will  try  to  explain  so  much  of  it 
to  you  as  will  help  to  let  you  know  whereabouts 
we  are  when  we  are  talking  to  you,  —  for  it  is  un- 
comfortable in  so  intimate  a  correspondence  as  ours 
not  to  be  exactly  master  of  every  spot  where  one 
another  is  writing  or  reading  or  sauntering.  This 
view  of  the  castle  is  what  I  have  just  finished,  and 
is  the  only  side  that  will  be  at  all  regular.  Directly 
before  it  is  an  open  grove,  through  which  you  see  a 
field,  which  is  bounded  by  a  serpentine  wood  of  all 
kind  of  trees  and  flowering  shrubs  and  flowers. 
The  lawn  before  the  house  is  situated  on  the  top  of 
a  small  hill,  from  whence  to  the  left  you  see  the 
town  and  church  of  Twickenham  encircling  a  turn 
of  the  river,  that  looks  exactly  like  a  seaport  in 
miniature.  The  opposite  shore  is  a  most  delicious 
meadow,  bounded  by  Richmond  Hill,  which  loses 
itself  in  the  noble  woods  of  the  park  to  the  end  of 
the  prospect  on  the  right,  where  is  another  turn  of 
the  river,  and  the  suburbs  of  Kingston  as  luckily 
placed  as  Twickenham  is  on  the  left ;  and  a  natural 
terrace  on  the  brow  of  my  hill,  with  meadows  of  my 
own  down  to  the  river,  commands  both  extremities. 
Is  not  this  a  tolerable  prospect?  You  must  figure 
that  all  this  is  perpetually  enlivened  by  a  navigation 

1  Richard  Bentley,  described  by  Walpole  as  having  "  more 
sense,  judgment,  and  wit,  more  taste  and  more  misfortunes, 
than  sure  ever  met  in  any  man." 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   W ALP  OLE.  41 

of  boats  and  barges,  and  by  a  road  below  my  terrace, 
with  coaches,  post-chaises,  wagons,  and  horsemen 
constantly  in  motion,  and  the  fields  speckled  with 
cows,  horses,  and  sheep.  Now  you  shall  walk  into 
the  house.  The  bow- window  below  leads  into  a 
little  parlor  hung  with  a  stone-color  Gothic  paper 
and  Jackson's  Venetian  prints,  which  I  could  never 
endure  while  they  pretended,  infamous  as  they  are, 
to  be  after  Titian,  etc.,  but  when  I  gave  them  this 
air  of  barbarous  bas-reliefs,  they  succeeded  to  a  mi- 
racle ;  it  is  impossible  at  first  sight  not  to  conclude 
that  they  contain  the  history  of  Attila  or  Tottila, 
done  about  the  very  era.  From  hence,  under  two 
gloomy  arches,  you  come  to  the  hall  and  staircase, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  describe  to  you,  as  it  is  the 
most  particular  and  chief  beauty  of  the  castle. 
Imagine  the  walls  covered  with  (I  call  it  paper,  but 
it  is  really  paper  painted  in  perspective  to  represent) 
Gothic  fretwork :  the  lightest  Gothic  balustrade  to 
the  staircase,  adorned  with  antelopes  (our  sup- 
porters) bearing  shields ;  lean  windows  fattened 
with  rich  saints  in  painted  glass,  and  a  vestibule 
open  with  three  arches  on  the  landing-place,  and 
niches  full  of  trophies  of  old  coats-of-mail,  Indian 
shields  made  of  rhinoceros's  hides,  broadswords, 
quivers,  long-bows,  arrows,  and  spears,  —  all  sitpposed 
to  be  taken  by  Sir  Terry  Robsart a  in  the  holy  wars. 
But  as  none  of  this  regards  the  enclosed  drawing,  I 
will  pass  to  that.  The  room  on  the  ground -floor 
nearest  to  you  is  a  bedchamber  hung  with  yellow 

1  An  ancestor  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole  who  was  Knight  of 
the  Garter. 


42  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

paper  and  prints,  framed  in  a  new  manner  invented 
by  Lord  Cardigan,  —  that  is,  with  black  and  white 
borders  printed.  Over  this  is  Mr.  Chute's  bed- 
chamber, hung  with  red  in  the  same  manner.  The 
bow-window  room,  one  pair  of  stairs,  is  not  yet 
finished ;  but  in  the  tower  beyond  it  is  the  charm- 
ing closet  where  I  am  now  writing  to  you.  It  is 
hung  with  green  paper  and  water-color  pictures  j 
has  two  windows :  the  one  in  the  drawing  looks  to 
the  garden,  the  other  to  the  beautiful  prospect ;  and 
the  top  of  each  glutted  with  the  richest  painted 
glass  of  the  arms  of  England,  crimson  roses,  and 
twenty  other  pieces  of  green,  purple,  and  historic 
bits.  I  must  tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  the  castle, 
when  finished,  will  have  two  and  thirty  windows 
enriched  with  painted  glass.  In  this  closet,  which 
is  Mr.  Chute's  College  of  Arms,  are  two  presses  with 
books  of  heraldry  and  antiquities,  Madame  Sevigne' 's 
Letters,  and  any  French  books  that  relate  to  her  and 
her  acquaintance.  Out  of  this  closet  is  the  room 
where  we  always  live,  hung  with  a  blue-and-white 
paper  in  stripes  adorned  with  festoons,  and  a  thou- 
sand plump  chairs,  couches,  and  luxurious  settees 
covered  with  linen  of  the  same  pattern,  and  with  a 
bow- window  commanding  the  prospect,  and  gloomed 
with  limes  that  shade  half  each  window,  already 
darkened  with  painted  glass  in  chiaroscuro  set  in 
deep-blue  glass.  Under  this  room  is  a  cool  little 
hall,  where  we  generally  dine,  hung  with  paper  to 
imitate  Dutch  tiles. 

I  have  described  so  much  that  you  will  begin  to 
think  that  all  the  accounts  I  used  to  give  you  of  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  43 

diminutiveness  of  our  habitation  were  fabulous  ;  but 
it  is  really  incredible  how  small  most  of  the  rooms 
are.  The  only  two  good  chambers  I  shall  have  are 
not  yet  built :  they  will  be  an  eating-room  and  a 
library,  each  twenty  by  thirty,  and  the  latter  fifteen 
feet  high.  For  the  rest  of  the  house,  I  could  send 
it  you  in  this  letter  as  easily  as  the  drawing,  only 
that  I  should  have  nowhere  to  live  till  the  return  of 
the  post.  The  Chinese  summer-house,  which  you 
may  distinguish  in  the  distant  landscape,  belongs  to 
my  Lord  Radnor.  We  pique  ourselves  upon  noth- 
ing but  simplicity,  and  have  no  carvings,  gildings, 
paintings,  inlayings,  or  tawdry  businesses. 

You  will  not  be  sorry,  I  believe,  by  this  time  to 
have  done  with  Strawberry  Hill  and  to  hear  a  little 
news.  The  end  of  a  very  dreaming  session  has  been 
extremely  enlivened  by  an  accidental  bill  which  has 
opened  great  quarrels,  and  those  not  unlikely  to 
be  attended  with  interesting  circumstances.  A  bill 
to  prevent  clandestine  marriages,  so  drawn  by  the 
judges  as  to  clog  all  matrimony  in  general,  was  in- 
advertently espoused  by  the  Chancellor ;  and  having 
been  strongly  attacked  in  the  House  of  Commons 
by  Nugent,  the  Speaker,  Mr.  Fox,  and  others,  the 
last  went  very  great  lengths  of  severity  on  the  whole 
body  of  the  law,  and  on  its  chieftain  in  particular, 
which,  however,  at  the  last  reading  he  softened  and 
explained  off  extremely.  This  did  not  appease  ;  but 
on  the  return  of  the  bill  to  the  House  of  Lords, 
where  our  amendments  were  to  be  read,  the  Chan- 
cellor in  the  most  personal  terms  harangued  against 
Fox,  and  concluded  with  saying  that  "  he  despised 


44  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

his  scurrility  as  much  as  his  adulation  and  recanta- 
tion." As  Christian  charity  is  not  one  of  the  oaths 
taken  by  privy-counsellors,  and  as  it  is  not  the  most 
eminent  virtue  in  either  of  the  champions,  this  quarrel 
is  not  likely  to  be  soon  reconciled.  There  are  na- 
tures whose  disposition  it  is  to  patch  up  political 
breaches ;  but  whether  they  will  succeed,  or  try  to 
succeed,  in  healing  this,  can  I  tell  you? 

The  match  for  Lord  Granville,  which  I  announced 
to  you,  is  not  concluded ;  his  flames  are  cooled  in 
that  quarter  as  well  as  in  others. 

I  begin  a  new  sheet  to  you,  which  does  not  match 
with  the  other,  for  I  have  no  more  of  the  same  paper 
here.  Dr.  Cameron  is  executed,  and  died  with  the 
greatest  firmness.  His  parting  with  his  wife  the  night 
before  was  heroic  and  tender.  He  let  her  stay  till 
the  last  moment,  when  being  aware  that  the  gates  of 
the  Tower  would  be  locked,  he  told  her  so.  She  fell 
at  his  feet  in  agonies ;  he  said,  "  Madam,  this  was 
not  what  you  promised  me,"  and  embracing  her, 
forced  her  to  retire ;  then  with  the  same  coolness 
looked  at  the  window  till  her  coach  was  out  of  sight, 
after  which  he  turned  about  and  wept.  His  only 
concern  seemed  to  be  at  the  ignominy  of  Tyburn ; 
he  was  not  disturbed  at  the  dresser  for  his  body,  or 
at  the  fire  to  burn  his  bowels.  The  crowd  was  so 
great  that  a  friend  who  attended  him  could  not  get 
away,  but  was  forced  to  stay  and  behold  the  execu- 
tion. But  what  will  you  say  to  the  minister  or  priest 
who  accompanied  him?  The  wretch,  after  taking 
leave,  went  into  a  landau,  where,  not  content  with 
seeing  the  Doctor  hanged,  he  let  down  the  top  of 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  45 

the  landau  for  the  better  convenience  of  seeing  him 
embowelled  !  I  cannot  tell  you  positively  that  what 
I  hinted  of  this  Cameron  being  commissioned  from 
Prussia  x  was  true,  but  so  it  is  believed.  Adieu,  my 
dear  child ;  I  think  this  is  a  very  tolerable  letter  for 
summer ! 

1  In  his  Memoirs,  Walpole  gives  the  following  account 
of  the  taking  of  Dr.  Cameron  :  "  About  this  time  was  taken 
in  Scotland  Dr.  Archibald  Cameron,  a  man  excepted  by  the 
Act  of  Indemnity.  Intelligence  had  been  received  some  time 
before  of  his  intended  journey  to  Britain,  with  a  commission 
from  Prussia  to  offer  arms  to  the  disaffected  Highlanders,  at 
the  same  time  that  ships  were  hiring  in  the  North  to  trans- 
port men.  The  fairness  of  Dr.  Cameron's  character,  com- 
pared with  the  severity  he  met  from  a  government  most  laud- 
ably mild  to  its  enemies,  confirmed  this  report.  That  Prussia, 
who  opened  its  inhospitable  arms  to  every  British  rebel,  should 
have  tampered  in  such  a  business,  was  by  no  means  improb- 
able. That  King  hated  his  uncle.  But  could  a  Protestant  po- 
tentate dip  in  designs  for  restoring  a  popish  government  ?  Of 
what  religion  is  policy  ?  To  what  sect  is  royal  revenge  big- 
oted? The  Queen-dowager,  though  sister  of  our  King,  was 
avowedly  a  Jacobite,  —  by  principle  so;  and  it  was  natural. 
What  prince,  but  the  single  one  who  profits  by  the  princi- 
ple, can  ever  think  it  allowable  to  overturn  sacred  hereditary 
right  ?  It  is  the  curse  of  sovereigns  that  their  crimes  should 
be  unpunishable." 


46  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


VIII. 

GRAY'S  "ODES"  TO  BE  PRINTED  AT  STRAWBERRY 
HILL. 

To  John  Chute,  Esq. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  July  12,  1757. 
IT  would  be  very  easy  to  persuade  me  to  a  Vine- 
voyage?-  without  your  being  so  indebted  to  me,  if  it 
were  possible.  I  shall  represent  my  impediments, 
and  then  you  shall  judge.  I  say  nothing  of  the  heat 
of  this  magnificent  weather,  with  the  glass  yesterday 
up  to  three-quarters  of  sultry.  In  all  English  prob- 
ability this  will  not  be  a  hindrance  long ;  though  at 
present,  so  far  from  travelling,  I  have  made  the  tour 
of  my  own  garden  but  once  these  three  days  before 
eight  at  night,  and  then  I  thought  I  should  have 
died  of  it.  For  how  many  years  we  shall  have  to 
talk  of  the  summer  of  fifty-seven  !  But  hear :  my 
Lady  Ailesbury  and  Miss  Rich  come  hither  on  Thurs- 
day for  two  or  three  days ;  and  on  Monday  next  the 
Officina  Arbuteana  opens  in  form.  The  Stationers' 
Company,  that  is,  Mr.  Dodsley,  Mr.  Tonson,  etc.,  are 
summoned  to  meet  here  on  Sunday  night.  And  with 
what  do  you  think  we  open  ?  Cedite,  Romani  Im- 
pressores,  —  with  nothing  under  Graii  Carmina.  I 
found  him  [Gray]  in  town  last  week ;  he  had  brought 
his  two  Odes  to  be  printed.  I  snatched  them  out 

1  To  visiting  Mr.  Chute  at  his  seat,  the  Vine,  in  Hamp- 
shire. Chute  was  one  of  the  friends  with  whom  Walpole  and 
Gray  travelled  in  Italy. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  47 

of  Dodsley's  hands,  and  they  are  to  be  tne  first-lruits 
of  my  press.  An  edition  of  Hentznerus,  with  a  ver- 
sion by  Mr.  Bentley  and  a  little  preface  of  mine,  were 
prepared,  but  are  to  wait.  Now,  my  dear  sir,  can 
I  stir? 

"  Not  ev'n  thy  virtues,  tyrant,  shall  avail  I " 

Is  not  it  the  plainest  thing  in  the  world  that  I  can- 
not go  to  you  yet,  but  that  you  must  come  to  me  ? 

I  tell  you  no  news,  for  I  know  none,  think  of  none. 
Elzevir,  Aldus,  and  Stephens  are  the  freshest  person- 
ages in  my  memory.  Unless  I  was  appointed  printer 
of  the  Gazette,  I  think  nothing  could  at  present  make 
me  read  an  article  in  it.  Seriously,  you  must  come 
to  us,  and  shall  be  witness  that  the  first  holidays  we 
have  I  will  return  with  you.  Adieu ! 


IX. 


DISASTERS  IN   FLANDERS. -GRAY'S  "ODES."-THE 
PRINTER'S   LETTER. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug.  4,  1757. 
MR.  PHELPS  (who  is  Mr.  Phelps?)  has  brought 
me  the  packet  safe  ;  for  which  I  thank  you.  I  would 
fain  have  persuaded  him  to  stay  and  dine,  that  I 
might  ask  him  more  questions  about  you.  He  told 
me  how  low  your  ministerial  spirits  are  :  I  fear  the 
news  that  came  last  night  will  not  exalt  them.  The 
French  attacked  the  Duke  for  three  days  together, 


48  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

and  at  last  defeated  him.  I  find  it  is  called  at  Ken- 
sington an  encounter1  of  fourteen  squadrons ;  but 
any  defeat  must  be  fatal  to  Hanover.  I  know  few 
particulars,  and  those  only  by  a  messenger  des- 
patched to  me  by  Mr.  Conway  on  the  first  tidings  : 
the  Duke  exposed  himself  extremely,  but  is  unhurt, 
as  they  say  all  his  small  family  are.  In  what  a  situ- 
ation is  our  Prussian  hero,  surrounded  by  Austrians, 
French,  and  Muscovites,  —  even  impertinent  Sweden 
is  stealing  in  to  pull  a  feather  out  of  his  tail !  What 
devout  plunderers  will  every  little  Catholic  prince  of 
the  Empire  become  !  The  only  good  I  hope  to  ex- 
tract out  of  this  mischief  is,  that  it  will  stifle  our 
secret  expedition,  and  preserve  Mr.  Conway  from 
going  on  it.  I  have  so  ill  an  opinion  of  our  secret 
expeditions  that  I  hope  they  will  forever  remain 
so.  What  a  melancholy  picture  is  there  of  an  old 
monarch  at  Kensington,  who  has  lived  to  see  such 
inglorious  and  fatal  days  !  Admiral  Boscawen  is 
disgraced.  I  know  not  the  cause  exactly,  as  ten 
miles  out  of  town  are  a  thousand  out  of  politics.  He 
is  said  to  have  refused  to  serve  under  Sir  Edward 
Hawke  in  this  armament.  Shall  I  tell  you  what, 
more  than  distance,  has  thrown  me  out  of  attention 
to  news  ?  A  little  packet  which  I  shall  give  your 
brother  for  you,  will  explain  it.  In  short,  I  am 
turned  printer,  and  have  converted  a  little  cottage 
here  into  a  printing-office.  My  abbey  is  a  perfect 
college  or  academy.  I  keep  a  painter  [Miintz]  in 
the  house,  and  a  printer  [Robinson] ,  —  not  to  men- 
tion Mr.  Bentley,  who  is  an  academy  himself.  I 
1  The  battle  at  Hastenbeck. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE  49 

send  you  two  copies  (one  for  Dr.  Cocchi) *  of  a  very 
honorable  opening  of  my  press,  —  two  amazing  Odes 
of  Mr.  Gray;  they  are  Greek,  they  are  Pindaric, 
they  are  sublime  !  consequently  I  fear  a  little  ob- 
scure ;  the  second  particularly,  by  the  confinement 
of  the  measure  and  the  nature  of  prophetic  vision,  is 
mysterious.  I  could  not  persuade  him  to  add  more 
notes ;  he  says  whatever  wants  to  be  explained,  don't 
deserve  to  be.  I  shall  venture  to  place  some  in  Dr. 
Cocchi's  copy,  who  need  not  be  supposed  to  under- 
stand Greek  and  English  together,  though  he  is  so 
much  master  of  both  separately.  To  divert  you  in 
the  mean  time,  I  send  you  the  following  copy  of  a 
letter  written  by  my  printer 2  to  a  friend  in  Ireland. 
I  should  tell  you  that  he  has  the  most  sensible  look 
in  the  world  ;  Garrick  said  he  would  give  any  money 
for  four  actors  with  such  eyes,  —  they  are  more 
Richard  the  Third's  than  Garrick's  own ;  but  what- 
ever his  eyes  are,  his  head  is  Irish.  Looking  for 
something  I  wanted  in  a  drawer,  I  perceived  a 
parcel  of  strange,  romantic  words  in  a  large  hand 
beginning  a  letter ;  he  saw  me  see  it,  yet  left  it, 
which  convinces  me  it  was  left  on  purpose  :  it  is  the 
grossest  flattery  to  me,  couched  in  most  ridiculous 
scraps  of  poetry,  which  he  has  retained  from  things 
he  has  printed ;  but  it  will  best  describe  itself :  — 

SIR, —  I    date    this    from    shady    bowers,   nodding 
groves,  and  amaranthine  shades,  —  close  by  old  Father 

1  A  learned  physician  and  author  at  Florence, —  a  particular 
friend  of  Mann's. 

2  William  Robinson,  first  printer  to  the  press  at  Strawberry 
Hill. 

4 


SO  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Thames's  silver  side,  fair  Twickenham's  luxurious 
shades,  Richmond's  near  neighbor,  where  great  George 
the  King  resides.  You  will  wonder  at  my  prolixity ; 
in  my  last  I  informed  you  that  I  was  going  into  the 
country  to  transact  business  for  a  private  gentleman. 
This  gentleman  is  the  Hon.  Horatio  Walpole,  son 
to  the  late  great  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  who  is  very 
studious  and  an  admirer  of  all  the  liberal  arts  and 
sciences;  amongst  the  rest  he  admires  printing  He 
has  fitted  out  a  complete  printing-house  at  this  his 
country  seat,  and  has  done  me  the  favor  to  make  me 
sole  manager  and  operator  (there  being  no  one  but  my- 
self). All  men  of  genius  resorts  his  house,  courts  his 
company,  and  admires  his  understanding ;  what  with 
his  own  and  their  writings,  I  believe  I  shall  be  pretty 
well  employed.  I  have  pleased  him,  and  I  hope  to 
continue  so  to  do.  Nothing  can  be  more  warm  than 
the  weather  has  been  here  this  time  past ;  they  have  in 
London,  by  the  help  of  glasses,  roasted  in  the  Artillery- 
ground  fowls  and  quarters  of  lamb.  The  coolest  days 
that  I  have  felt  since  May  last  are  equal  to,  nay,  far 
exceed,  the  warmest  I  ever  felt  in  Ireland.  The  place  I 
am  in  now  is  all  my  comfort  from  the  heat ;  the  situa- 
tion of  it  is  close  to  the  Thames,  and  is  Richmond 
Gardens  (if  you  were  ever  in  them)  in  miniature,  sur- 
rounded by  bowers,  groves,  cascades,  and  ponds,  and 
on  a  rising  ground  not  very  common  in  this  part  of 
the  country;  the  building  elegant,  and  the  furniture 
of  a  peculiar  taste,  magnificent  and  superb.  He  is  a 
bachelor,  and  spends  his  time  in  the  studious  rural 
taste — not  like  his  father,  lost  in  the  weather-beaten 
vessel  of  state  —  many  people  censured,  but  his  conduct 
was  far  better  than  our  late  pilot's  at  the  helm,  and  more 
to  the  interest  of  England  ;  they  follow  his  advice  now, 
and  court  the  assistance  of  Spain,  instead  of  provoking 
a  war,  for  that  was  ever  against  England's  interest." 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  51 

I  laughed  for  an  hour  at  this  picture  of  myself, 
which  is  much  more  like  to  the  studious  magician 
in  the  enchanted  opera  of  Rinaldo  :  not  but  Twick- 
enham has  a  romantic  genteelness  that  would  figure 
in  a  more  luxurious  climate.  It  was  but  yesterday 
that  we  had  a  new  kind  of  auction,  —  it  was  of  the 
orange-trees  and  plants  of  your  old  acquaintance, 
Admiral  Martin.  It  was  one  of  the  warm  days  of 
this  jubilee  summer,  which  appears  only  once  in  fifty 
years  —  the  plants  were  disposed  in  little  clumps 
about  the  lawn ;  the  company  walked  to  bid  from 
one  to  the  other,  and  the  auctioneer  knocked  down 
the  lots  on  the  orange-tubs.  Within  three  doors 
was  an  auction  of  China.  You  did  not  imagine  that 
we  were  such  a  metropolis  !  Adieu  ! 


X. 

HISTORY  OF  CHARLES  V.- HISTORY  OF  LEARNING. 
To  Dr.    William  Robertson. 

March  4,  1759. 

If  I  can  throw  in  any  additional  temptation  to 
your  disposition  for  writing,  it  is  worth  my  while,  even 
at  the  hazard  of  my  judgment  and  my  knowledge, 
both  of  which,  however,  are  small  enough  to  make 
me  tender  of  them.  Before  I  read  your  History,  I 
should  probably  have  been  glad  to  dictate  to  you, 
and  (I  will  venture  to  say  it;  it  satirises  nobody 
but  myself)  should  have  thought  I  did  honor  to  an 
obscure  Scotch  clergyman  by  directing  his  studies 


52  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

with  my  superior  lights  and  abilities.  How  you  have 
saved  me,  sir,  from  making  a  ridiculous  figure,  by 
making  so  great  an  one  yourself !  But  could  I  sus- 
pect that  a  man  I  believe  much  younger,  and  whose 
dialect  I  scarce  understood,  and  who  came  to  me 
with  all  the  diffidence  and  modesty  of  a  very  mid- 
dling author,  and  who  I  was  told  had  passed  his 
life  in  a  small  living  near  Edinburgh,  —  could  I  sus- 
pect that  he  had  not  only  written  what  all  the  world 
now  allows  the  best  modern  history,  but  that  he  had 
written  it  in  the  purest  English,  and  with  as  much 
seeming  knowledge  of  men  and  courts  as  if  he  had 
passed  all  his  life  in  important  embassies  ?  In  short, 
sir,  I  have  not  power  to  make  you,  what  you  ought 
to  be,  a  Minister  of  State  ;  but  I  will  do  all  I  can,  — 
I  will  stimulate  you  to  continue  writing,  and  I  shall 
do  it  without  presumption. 

I  should  like  either  of  the  subjects  you  mention, 
and  I  can  figure  one  or  two  others  that  would  shine 
in  your  hands.  In  one  light  the  History  of  Greece 
seems  preferable.  You  have  all  the  materials  for  it 
that  can  possibly  be  had.  It  is  concluded,  it  is  clear 
of  all  objections ;  for  perhaps  nobody  but  I  should 
run  wildly  into  passionate  fondness  for  liberty,  if  I 
was  writing  about  Greece.  It  even  might,  I  think, 
be  made  agreeably  new,  and  that  by  comparing  the 
extreme  difference  of  their  manners  and  ours,  par- 
ticularly in  the  article  of  finances,  —  a  system  almost 
new  in  the  world. 

With  regard  to  the  History  of  Charles  V.  it  is  a 
magnificent  subject  and  worthy  of  you.  It  is  more, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  53 

—  it  is  fit  for  you ;  for  you  have  shown  that  you  can 
write  on  ticklish  subjects  with  the  utmost  discretion, 
and  on  subjects  of  religious  party  with  temper  and 
impartiality.  Besides,  by  what  little  I  have  skimmed 
of  history  myself,  I  have  seen  how  many  mistakes, 
how  many  prejudices,  may  easily  be  detected  :  and 
though  much  has  been  written  on  that  age,  probably 
truth  still  remains  to  be  written  of  it.  Yet  I  have  an 
objection  to  this  subject.  Though  Charles  V.  was 
in  a  manner  the  Emperor  of  Europe,  yet  he  was  a 
German  or  a  Spaniard.  Consider,  sir,  by  what  you 
must  have  found  in  writing  the  History  of  Scotland, 
how  difficult  it  would  be  for  the  most  penetrating 
genius  of  another  country  to  give  an  adequate  idea 
of  Scottish  story.  So  much  of  all  transactions  must 
take  their  rise  from  and  depend  on  national  laws, 
customs,  and  ideas,  that  I  am  persuaded  a  native 
would  always  discover  great  mistakes  in  a  foreign 
writer. 

Greece  indeed  is  a  foreign  country,  but  no  Greek 
is  alive  to  disprove  one. 

There  are  two  other  subjects  which  I  have  some- 
times had  a  mind  to  treat  myself;  though  my  nam- 
ing one  of  them  will  tell  you  why  I  did  not.  It  was 
the  History  of  Learning.  Perhaps  indeed  it  is  a 
work  which  could  not  be  executed  unless  intended 
by  a  young  man  from  his  first  looking  on  a  book 
with  reflection.  The  other  is  the  history  of  what  I 
may  in  one  light  call  the  most  remarkable  period  of 
the  world,  by  containing  a  succession  of  five  good 
princes :  I  need  not  say  they  were  Nerva,  Trajan, 
Adrian,  and  the  two  Antonines.  Not  to  mention  that 


54  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

no  part  almost  of  the  Roman  History  has  been  well 
written  from  the  death  of  Domitian,  this  period 
would  be  the  fairest  pattern  for  use,  if  History  can 
ever  effect  what  she  so  much  pretends  to,  —  doing 
good.  I  should  be  tempted  to  call  it  the  "  History  of 
Humanity ; "  for  though  Trajan  and  Adrian  had  pri- 
vate vices  that  disgraced  them  as  men,  as  princes 
they  approached  to  perfection.  Marcus  Aurelius 
arrived  still  nearer,  perhaps  with  a  little  ostentation ; 
yet  vanity  is  an  amiable  machine  if  it  operates  to 
benevolence.  Antoninus  Pius  seems  to  have  been 
as  good  as  human  nature  royalized  can  be.  Adrian's 
persecution  of  the  Christians  would  be  objected,  but 
then  it  is  much  controverted.  I  am  no  admirer  of 
elective  monarchies ;  and  yet  it  is  remarkable  that 
when  Aurelius's  diadem  descended  to  his  natural 
heir,  not  to  the  heir  of  his  virtues,  the  line  of  bene- 
ficence was  extinguished ;  for  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
hereditary  and  bad  are  almost  synonymous. 

But  I  am  sensible,  sir,  that  I  am  a  bad  adviser 
for  you ;  the  chastity,  the  purity,  the  good  sense 
and  regularity  of  your  manner,  that  unity  you  men- 
tion, and  of  which  you  are  the  greatest  master, 
should  not  be  led  away  by  the  licentious  frankness, 
and,  I  hope,  honest  indignation  of  my  way  of 
thinking.  I  may  be  a  fitter  companion  than  a 
guide ;  and  it  is  with  most  sincere  zeal  that  I  offer 
myself  to  contribute  any  assistance  in  my  power 
towards  polishing  your  future  work,  whatever  it 
shall  be.  You  want  little  help ;  I  can  give  little,  — 
and  indeed  I,  who  am  taxed  with  incorrectnesses, 
should  not  assume  airs  of  a  corrector.  My  Cata- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  55 

logue  *  I  intended  should  have  been  exact  enough 
in  style :  it  has  not  been  thought  so  by  some ;  I 
tell  you,  that  you  may  not  trust  me  too  much.  Mr. 
Gray,  a  very  perfect  judge,  has  sometimes  censured 
me  for  parliamentary  phrases,  familiar  to  me  as 
your  Scotch  law  is  to  you.  I  might  plead  for  my 
inaccuracies  that  the  greatest  part  of  my  book  was 
written  with  people  talking  in  the  room ;  but  that 
is  no  excuse  to  myself,  who  intended  it  for  correct. 
However,  it  is  easier  to  remark  inaccuracies  in  the 
work  of  another  than  in  one's  own ;  and  since  you 
command  me,  I  will  go  again  over  your  second 
volume  with  an  eye  to  the  slips,  —  a  light  in  which 
I  certainly  did  not  intend  my  second  examination 
of  it. 


XI. 

CONGRATULATIONS  ON   PITT'S   ADMINISTRATION. 

To  The  Right  Hon.   William  Pitt. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Nov.  19,  1759. 
SIR,  —  On  coming  to  town  I  did  myself  the 
honor  of  waiting  on  you  and  Lady  Hester  Pitt ; 
and  though  I  think  myself  extremely  distinguished 
by  your  obliging  note,  I  should  be  sorry  for  having 
given  you  the  trouble  of  writing  it,  if  it  did  not 
lend  me  a  very  pardonable  opportunity  of  saying 
what  I  much  wish  to  express,  but  thought  myself 
too  private  a  person,  and  of  too  little  consequence, 

1  His  Catalogue  of  Royal  and  Noble  Authors,  —  a  sec- 
ond edition  of  which  had  been  recently  published. 


56  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

to  take  the  liberty  to  say.  In  short,  sir,  I  was 
eager  to  congratulate  you  on  the  lustre  you  have 
thrown  on  this  country ;  I  wished  to  thank  you  for 
the  security  you  have  fixed  to  me  of  enjoying  the 
happiness  I  do  enjoy.  You  have  placed  England 
in  a  situation  in  which  it  never  saw  itself,  —  a  task 
the  more  difficult,  as  you  had  not  to  improve,  but 
recover. 

In  a  trifling  book  [A  Catalogue  of  Royal  and 
Noble  Authors]  written  two  or  three  years  ago,  I 
said  (speaking  of  the  name  in  the  world  the  most 
venerable  to  me)  :  "  Sixteen  unfortunate  and  in- 
glorious years  since  his  removal  have  already  writ- 
ten his  eulogium."  It  is  but  justice  to  you,  sir,  to 
add  that  that  period  ended  when  your  adminis- 
tration began. 

Sir,  do  not  take  this  for  flattery  ;  there  is  nothing 
in  your  power  to  give  that  I  would  accept,  —  nay, 
there  is  nothing  I  could  envy  but  what  I  believe 
you  would  scarce  offer  me,  —  your  glory.  This  may 
seem  very  vain  and  insolent ;  but  consider,  sir, 
what  a  monarch  is  a  man  who  wants  nothing ;  con- 
sider how  he  looks  down  on  one  who  is  only  the 
most  illustrious  man  in  England  !  But,  sir,  free- 
doms apart,  insignificant  as  I  am,  probably  it  must 
be  some  satisfaction  to  a  great  mind  like  yours  to 
receive  incense  when  you  are  sure  there  is  no 
flattery  blended  with  it ;  and  what  must  any  Eng- 
lishman be  that  could  give  you  a  moment's  satis- 
faction and  would  hesitate? 

Adieu,  sir !  I  am  unambitious,  I  am  uninter- 
ested, but  I  am  vain.  You  have,  by  your  notice, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  57 

uncanvassed,  unexpected,  and  at  a  period  when  you 
certainly  could  have  the  least  temptation  to  stoop 
down  to  me,  flattered  me  in  the  most  agreeable 
manner.  If  there  could  arrive  the  moment  when 
you  could  be  nobody  and  I  anybody,  you  cannot 
imagine  how  grateful  I  would  be.  In  the  mean 
time  permit  me  to  be,  as  I  have  been  ever  since  I 
had  the  honor  of  knowing  you,  sir,  your  most 
obedient,  humble  servant. 


XII. 

FROM  A  SICK  ROOM. 
To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug,  12,  1760. 
IN  what  part  of  the  island  you  are  just  now,  I 
don't  know,  —  flying  about  somewhere  or  other,  I 
suppose.  Well,  it  is  charming  to  be  so  young ! 
Here  am  I  lying  upon  a  couch,  wrapped  up  in 
flannels,  with  the  gout  in  both  feet,  —  oh,  yes,  gout 
in  all  the  forms  !  Six  years  ago  I  had  it,  and  no- 
body would  believe  me ;  now  they  may  have  proof. 
My  legs  are  as  big  as  your  cousin  Guilford's,  and 
they  don't  use  to  be  quite  so  large.  I  was  seized 
yesterday  sennight;  have  had  little  pain  in  the 
day,  but  most  uncomfortable  nights  :  however,  I 
move  about  again  a  little  with  a  stick.  If  either 
my  father  or  mother  had  had  it,  I  should  not  dislike 
it  so  much.  I  am  herald  enough  to  approve  it  if 
descended  genealogically;  but  it  is  an  absolute 


58  LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

upstart  in  me,  and  what  is  more  provoking,  I  had 
trusted  to  my  great  abstinence  for  keeping  me 
from  it.  But  thus  it  is,  if  I  had  any  gentleman-like 
virtue,  as  patriotism  or  loyalty,  I  might  have  got 
something  by  them ;  I  had  nothing  but  that  beg- 
garly virtue  temperance,  and  she  had  not  interest 
enough  to  keep  me  from  a  fit  of  the  gout.  Another 
plague  is  that  everybody  that  ever  knew  anybody 
that  had  it,  is  so  good  as  to  come  with  advice  and 
direct  me  how  to  manage  it,  —  that  is,  how  to  con- 
trive to  have  it  for  a  great  many  years.  I  am  very 
refractory ;  I  say  to  the  gout,  as  great  personages 
do  to  the  executioners,  "  Friend,  do  your  work  as 
quick  as  you  can."  They  tell  me  of  wine  to  keep 
it  out  of  my  stomach ;  but  I  will  starve  temperance 
itself,  I  will  be  virtuous  indeed,  —  that  is,  I  will 
stick  to  virtue,  though  I  find  it  is  not  its  own 
reward. 

This  confinement  has  kept  me  from  Yorkshire ;  I 
hope,  however,  to  be  at  Ragley  by  the  zoth,  from 
whence  I  shall  still  go  to  Lord  Stafford's,  —  and 
by  this  delay  you  may  possibly  be  at  Greatworth 
by  my  return,  which  will  be  about  the  beginning 
of  September.  Write  me  a  line  as  soon  as  you 
receive  this,  —  direct  it  to  Arlington  Street ;  it  will 
be  sent  after  me.  Adieu. 

P.  S.  —  My  tower  erects  its  battlements  bravely ; 
my  Anecdotes  of  Painting  thrive  exceedingly,  thanks 
to  the  gout,  that  has  pinned  me  to  my  chair.  Think 
of  Ariel  the  sprite  in  a  slit  shoe  ! 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  59 


XIII. 

GEORGE  III.,  THE  NEW  KING.  —  FUNERAL  OF 
GEORGE  II. 

To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Nov.  13,  1760. 
EVEN  the  honeymoon  of  a  new  reign  don't  pro- 
duce events  every  day.  There  is  nothing  but  the 
common  saying  of  addresses  and  kissing  hands. 
The  chief  difficulty  is  settled ;  Lord  Gower  yields 
the  Mastership  of  the  Horse  to  Lord  Huntingdon, 
and  removes  to  the  Great  Wardrobe,  from  whence 
Sir  Thomas  Robinson  was  to  have  gone  into  Ellis's 
place,  but  he  is  saved.  The  City,  however,  have  a 
mind  to  be  out  of  humor ;  a  paper  has  been  fixed 
on  the  Royal  Exchange,  with  these  words,  "  No 
petticoat  Government,  no  Scotch  Minister,  no  Lord 
George  Sackville,"  —  two  hints  totally  unfounded, 
and  the  other  scarce  true.  No  petticoat  ever  gov- 
erned less,  it  is  left  at  Leicester-house ;  Lord 
George's  breeches  are  as  little  concerned ;  and 
except  Lady  Susan  Stuart  and  Sir  Harry  Erskine, 
nothing  has  yet  been  done  for  any  Scots.  For  the 
King  himself  he  seems  all  good-nature,  and  wishing 
to  satisfy  everybody ;  all  his  speeches  are  obliging. 
I  saw  him  again  yesterday,  and  was  surprised  to 
find  the  levee-room  had  lost  so  entirely  the  air  of 
the  lion's  den.  This  Sovereign  don't  stand  in  one 
spot  with  his  eyes  fixed  royally  on  the  ground,  and 
dropping  bits  of  German  news;  he  walks  about, 


60  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

and  speaks  to  everybody.  I  saw  him  afterwards  on 
the  throne,  where  he  is  graceful  and  genteel,  sits 
with  dignity,  and  reads  his  answers  to  addresses 
well ;  it  was  the  Cambridge  address  carried  by  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  in  his  Doctor's  gown,  and  look- 
ing like  the  Medecin  malgrt  lui.  He  had  been 
vehemently  solicitous  for  attendance,  for  fear  my 
Lord  Westmoreland,  who  vouchsafes  himself  to 
bring  the  address  from  Oxford,  should  outnumber 
him.  Lord  Lichfield  and  several  other  Jacobites 
have  kissed  hands ;  George  Selwyn  says,  "  They  go 
to  St.  James's  because  now  there  are  so  many 
Stuarts  there." 

Do  you  know,  I  had  the  curiosity  to  go  to  the 
burying  t'other  night;  I  had  never  seen  a  royal 
funeral,  —  nay,  I  walked  as  a  rag  of  quality,  which 
I  found  would  be,  and  so  it  was,  the  easiest  way 
of  seeing  it.  It  is  absolutely  a  noble  sight.  The 
Prince's  chamber,  hung  with  purple,  and  a  quantity 
of  silver  lamps,  the  coffin  under  a  canopy  of  purple 
velvet,  and  six  vast  chandeliers  of  silver  on  high 
stands,  had  a  very  good  effect.  The  Ambassador 
from  Tripoli  and  his  son  were  carried  to  see  that 
chamber.  The  procession,  through  a  line  of  foot- 
guards,  every  seventh  man  bearing  a  torch,  the  horse- 
guards  lining  the  outside,  their  officers  with  drawn 
sabres  and  crape  sashes  on  horseback,  the  drums 
muffled,  the  fifes,  bells  tolling,  and  minute-guns, — 
all  this  was  very  solemn.  But  the  charm  was  the 
entrance  of  the  Abbey,  where  we  were  received  by 
the  Dean  and  Chapter  in  rich  robes,  the  choir  and 
almsmen  bearing  torches ;  the  whole  Abbey  so  illu- 


LETTERS  OF   HORACE   WALPOLE.  6 1 

minated  that  one  saw  it  to  greater  advantage  than 
by  day,  —  the  tombs,  long  aisles,  and  fretted  roof,  all 
appearing  distinctly,  and  with  the  happiest  chiaro- 
scuro. There  wanted  nothing  but  incense,  and  little 
chapels  here  and  there,  with  priests  saying  mass  for 
the  repose  of  the  defunct ;  yet  one  could  not  com- 
plain of  its  not  being  catholic  enough.  I  had  been 
in  dread  of  being  coupled  with  some  boy  of  ten 
years  old ;  but  the  heralds  were  not  very  accurate, 
and  I  walked  with  George  Grenville,  taller  and  older, 
to  keep  me  in  countenance.  When  we  came  to  the 
chapel  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  all  solemnity  and  de- 
corum ceased ;  no  order  was  observed,  people  sat 
or  stood  where  they  could  or  would ;  the  yeomen 
of  the  guard  were  crying  out  for  help,  oppressed  by 
the  immense  weight  of  the  coffin ;  the  Bishop  read 
sadly,  and  blundered  in  the  prayers ;  the  fine  chap- 
ter, "  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman,"  was  chanted,  not 
read ;  and  the  anthem,  besides  being  immeasurably 
tedious,  would  have  served  as  well  for  a  nuptial.  The 
real  serious  part  was  the  figure  of  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland, heightened  by  a  thousand  melancholy  cir- 
cumstances. He  had  a  dark  brown  adonis,  and  a 
cloak  of  black  cloth,  with  a  train  of  five  yards.  At- 
tending the  funeral  of  a  father  could  not  be  pleas- 
ant, —  his  leg  extremely  bad,  yet  forced  to  stand  upon 
it  near  two  hours ;  his  face  bloated  and  distorted 
with  his  late  paralytic  stroke,  which  has  affected, 
too,  one  of  his  eyes,  and  placed  over  the  mouth  of 
the  vault,  into  which,  in  all  probability,  he  must 
himself  so  soon  descend  :  think  how  unpleasant  a 
situation  !  He  bore  it  all  with  a  firm  and  unaffected 


62  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

countenance.  This  grave  scene  was  fully  contrasted 
by  the  burlesque  Duke  of  Newcastle.  He  fell  into 
a  fit  of  crying  the  moment  he  came  into  the  chapel, 
and  flung  himself  back  in  a  stall,  the  Archbishop 
hovering  over  him  with  a  smelling-bottle ;  but  in 
two  minutes  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  his  hypoc- 
risy, and  he  ran  about  the  chapel  with  his  glass  to 
spy  who  was  or  was  not  there,  spying  with  one  hand, 
and  mopping  his  eyes  with  the  other.  Then  re- 
turned the  fear  of  catching  cold ;  and  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  who  was  sinking  with  heat,  felt  himself 
weighed  down,  and  turning  round,  found  it  was  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  standing  upon  his  train,  to  avoid 
the  chill  of  the  marble.  It  was  very  theatric  to  look 
down  into  the  vault,  where  the  coffin  lay,  attended 
by  mourners  with  lights.  Clavering,  the  groom  of 
the  bedchamber,  refused  to  sit  up  with  the  body,  and 
was  dismissed  by  the  King's  order. 

I  have  nothing  more  to  tell  you,  but  a  trifle,  a 
very  trifle.  The  King  of  Prussia  has  totally  defeated 
Marshal  Daun.  This,  which  would  have  been  pro- 
digious news  a  month  ago,  is  nothing  to-day  ;  it  only 
takes  its  turn  among  the  questions,  "  Who  is  to  be 
groom  of  the  bedchamber?  what  is  Sir  T.  Robinson 
to  have  ?  "  I  have  been  to  Leicester-fields  to-day ; 
the  crowd  was  immoderate.  I  don't  believe  it  will 
continue  so.  Good  night.  Yours  ever. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  63 


XIV. 

ACKNOWLEDGING    RECEIPT    OF   WARTON'S   "OBSERVA- 
TIONS ON   SPENSER." 

To  the  Rev.   Thomas   Warton. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug.  21,  1762. 

SIR,  —  I  was  last  week  surprised  with  a  very  un- 
expected present  in  your  name,  and  still  more  when, 
upon  examining  it,  I  found  myself  so  much,  and  so 
undeservedly,  distinguished  by  your  approbation.  I 
certainly  ought  to  have  thanked  you  immediately, 
but  I  chose  to  defer  my  acknowledgments  till  I  had 
read  your  volumes  very  attentively.  The  praise  you 
have  bestowed  on  me  debars  me,  sir,  from  doing 
all  the  justice  I  ought  to  your  work.  The  pleasure  I 
received  from  it  would  seem  to  have  grown  out  of 
the  satisfaction  I  felt  in  what,  if  it  would  not  be  un- 
grateful, I  should  be  humble  enough  to  call  flattery ; 
for  how  can  you,  sir,  approve  such  hasty,  superfi- 
cial writings  as  mine,  —  you,  who  in  the  same  pur- 
suits are  so  much  more  correct,  and  have  gone  so 
much  deeper?  For  instance,  compare  your  account 
of  Gothic  architecture  with  mine :  I  have  scarce 
skimmed  the  subject;  you  have  ascertained  all  its 
periods.  If  my  "  Anecdotes  "  should  ever  want  an- 
other edition,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  referring  the 
readers  to  your  chronicle  of  our  buildings. 

With  regard  to  the  Dance  of  Death,  I  must  con- 
fess you  have  not  convinced  me.  Vertue  (for  it  was 
he,  not  I,  that  first  doubted  of  that  painting  at  Basil) 


64  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

persuaded  me  by  the  arguments  I  found  in  his  MSS., 
and  which  I  have  given,  that  Holbein  was  not  the 
author.  The  latter's  prints,  as  executed  by  Hollar, 
confirmed  me  in  that  opinion ;  and  you  must  forgive 
me  if  I  still  think  the  taste  of  them  superior  to  Al- 
bert Diirer.  This  is  mere  matter  of  opinion,  and  of 
no  consequence,  and  the  only  point  in  your  book, 
sir,  in  which  I  do  not  submit  to  you  and  agree  with 
you. 

You  will  not  be  sorry  to  be  informed,  sir,  that 
in  the  library  of  the  Antiquarian  Society  there  is  a 
large  and  very  good  print  of  Nonsuch,  giving  a  toler- 
able idea  of  that  pile,  which  was  not  the  case  of 
Speed's  confused  scrap.  I  have  myself  drawings  of 
the  two  old  palaces  of  Richmond  and  Greenwich, 
and  should  be  glad  to  show  them  to  you  if  at  any 
time  of  your  leisure  you  would  favor  me  with  a  visit 
here.  You  would  see  some  attempts  at  Gothic, 
some  miniatures  of  scenes  which  I  am  pleased  to 
find  you  love.  Cloisters,  screens,  round-towers,  and 
a  printing-house,  all  indeed  of  baby  dimensions, 
would  put  you  a  little  in  mind  of  the  age  of  Caxton 
and  Wynken.  You  might  play  at  fancying  yourself 
in  a  castle  described  by  Spenser. 

You  see,  sir,  by  the  persuasions  I  employ,  how 
much  I  wish  to  tempt  you  hither  !  I  am,  sir,  your 
most  obliged  and  obedient  servant. 

P.  S.  —  You  know,  to  be  sure,  that  in  Ames's  "  Ty- 
pographical Antiquities"  are  specified  all  the  works 
of  Stephen  Hawes. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  65 

XV. 

A  FRIENDLY  GREETING. 
To  the  Earl  of  Strafford. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug.  10,  1763. 
MY  DEAR  LORD,  —  I  have  waited  in  hopes  that 
the  world  would  do  something  worth  telling  you ;  it 
will  not,  and  I  cannot  stay  any  longer  without  ask- 
ing you  how  you  do,  and  hoping  you  have  not  quite 
forgot  me.  It  has  rained  such  deluges  that  I  had 
some  thoughts  of  turning  my  Gallery  into  an  ark, 
and  began  to  pack  up  a  pair  of  bantams,  a  pair  of 
cats,  —  in  short,  a  pair  of  every  living  creature  about 
my  house ;  but  it  is  grown  fine  at  last,  and  the  work- 
men quit  my  Gallery  to-day  without  hoisting  a  sail  in 
it.  I  know  nothing  upon  earth  but  what  the  ancient 
ladies  in  my  neighborhood  knew  threescore  years 
ago ;  I  write  merely  to  pay  you  my  peppercorn  of 
affection  and  to  inquire  after  my  lady,  who  I  hope 
is  perfectly  well.  A  longer  letter  would  not  have 
half  the  merit ;  a  line  in  return  will  however  repay 
all  the  merit  I  can  possibly  have  to  one  to  whom  I 
am  so  much  obliged. 


66  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

XVI. 

ACKNOWLEDGING  THE  RECEIPT  OF  MASON'S  POEMS. 
To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Dec.  29,  1763. 
SIR,  —  Your  bookseller  has  brought  me  the  vol- 
ume of  your  Works,  for  which  I  give  you  a  thousand 
thanks ;  I  have  read  them  again  in  this  form  with 
great  satisfaction.  I  wish  in  return  that  I  had  any- 
thing literary  to  tell  you  or  send  you  that  would 
please  you  half  as  much.  I  should  be  glad  to  know 
how  to  convey  to  you  another  volume  of  my  Anec- 
dotes and  a  volume  of  Engravers,  which  will  be 
published  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks;  but  they 
will  be  far  from  amusing  you.  If  the  other  volumes 
were  trifling,  these  are  ten  times  more  so ;  nothing 
but  my  justice  to  the  public,  to  whom  I  owed  them, 
could  have  prevailed  over  my  dissatisfaction  with 
them,  and  have  made  me  produce  them.  The 
painters  in  the  third  volume  are  more  obscure, 
most  of  them,  than  those  in  the  former ;  and  the 
facts  relating  to  them  have  not  even  the  patina  of 
ambiguity  to  hide  and  consecrate  their  insignificance. 
The  tome  of  Engravers  is  a  mere  list  of  very  bad 
prints.  You  will  find  this  account  strictly  true,  and 
no  affectation.  To  make  you  some  amends,  it  will 
not  be  long  before  I  have  the  pleasure  of  sending  you 
by  far  the  most  curious  and  entertaining  book  that 
my  press  has  produced ;  if  it  diverts  you  as  much 
as  it  does  Mr.  Gray  and  me,  you  will  think  it  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE  67 

most  delightful  book  you  ever  read ;  and  yet,  out  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pages,  you  had  better  skip 
the  fifty  first.  Are  not  you  impatient  to  know  what 
this  curiosity  is  and  to  see  it?  It  is  the  Life  of  the 
famous  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  and  written  by 
himself :  of  the  contents  I  will  not  anticipate  one 
word.  I  address  this  letter  to  Aston,  upon  the 
authority  of  your  book.  I  should  be  sorry  if  it  mis- 
carried only  as  it  is  a  mark  of  my  gratitude. 

I  am,  sir,  you  much  obliged,  humble  servant. 


XVII. 

ON  MR.  CONWAY'S  DISMISSAL  FROM  ALL  HIS 
EMPLOYMENTS. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Saturday  night,  eight  o'clock, 
April  21,  1764. 

I  WRITE  to  you  with  a  very  bad  headache ;  I 
have  passed  a  night,  for  which  George  Grenville 
and  the  Duke  of  Bedford  shall  pass  many  an  uneasy 
one  !  Notwithstanding  I  heard  from  everybody  I 
met  that  your  Regiment,  as  well  as  Bedchamber, 
were  taken  away,  I  would  not  believe  it,  till  last 
night  the  Duchess  of  Grafton1  told  me  that  the 
night  before  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  said  to  her, 
"  Are  not  you  very  sorry  for  poor  Mr.  Conway  ? 
He  has  lost  everything."  When  the  Witch  of  En- 
dor  pities,  one  knows  she  has  raised  the  devil. 

1  Afterwards  Countess  of  Ossory  of  Walpole's  voluminous 
correspondence. 


68  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

I  am  come  hither  alone  to  put  my  thoughts  into 
some  order,  and  to  avoid  showing  the  first  sallies  of 
my  resentment,  which  I  know  you  would  disapprove ; 
nor  does  it  become  your  friend  to  rail.  My  anger 
shall  be  a  little  more  manly,  and  the  plan  of  my 
revenge  a  little  deeper  laid,  than  in  peevish  bon- 
mots.  You  shall  judge  of  my  indignation  by  its 
duration. 

In  the  mean  time  let  me  beg  you,  in  the  most 
earnest  and  most  sincere  of  all  professions,  to  suffer 
me  to  make  your  loss  as  light  as  it  is  in  my  power 
to  make  it :  I  have  six  thousand  pounds  in  the 
funds ;  accept  all,  or  what  part  you  want.  Do  not 
imagine  I  will  be  put  off  with  a  refusal.  The  re- 
trenchment of  my  expenses,  which  I  shall  from  this 
hour  commence,  will  convince  you  that  I  mean 
to  replace  your  fortune  as  far  as  I  can.  When  I 
thought  you  did  not  want  it,  I  had  made  another 
disposition.  You  have  ever  been  the  dearest  per- 
son to  me  in  the  world.  You  have  shown  that  you 
deserve  to  be  so.  You  suffer  for  your  spotless 
integrity.  Can  I  hesitate  a  moment  to  show  that 
there  is  at  least  one  man  who  knows  how  to  value 
you?  The  new  will,  which  I  am  going  to  make, 
will  be  a  testimonial  of  my  own  sense  of  virtue. 

One  circumstance  has  heightened  my  resentment. 
If  it  was  not  an  accident,  it  deserves  to  heighten 
it.  The  very  day  on  which  your  dismission  was 
notified,  I  received  an  order  from  the  Treasury  for 
the  payment  of  what  money  was  due  to  me  there. 
Is  it  possible  that  they  could  mean  to  make  any 
distinction  between  us?  Have  I  separated  myself 


LETTERS   OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,  69 

from  you?  Is  there  that  spot  on  earth  where  I  can 
be  suspected  of  having  paid  court?  Have  I  even 
left  my  name  at  a  Minister's  door  since  you  took 
your  part?  If  they  have  dared  to  hint  this,  the 
pen  that  is  now  writing  to  you  will  bitterly  un- 
deceive them. 

I  am  impatient  to  see  the  letters  you  have  re- 
ceived, and  the  answers  you  have  sent.  Do  you 
come  to  town?  If  you  do  not,  I  will  come  to 
you  to-morrow  sennight,  that  is,  the  2pth.  I  give 
no  advice  on  anything,  because  you  are  cooler 
than  I  am,  —  not  so  cool,  I  hope,  as  to  be  insensible 
to  this  outrage,  this  villany,  this  injustice  !  You 
owe  it  to  your  country  to  labor  the  extermination 
of  such  Ministers  ! 

I  am  so  bad  a  hypocrite  that  I  am  afraid  of 
showing  how  deeply  I  feel  this.  Yet  last  night  I 
received  the  account  from  the  Duchess  of  Grafton 
with  more  temper  than  you  believe  me  capable  of; 
but  the  agitation  of  the  night  disordered  me  so 
much  that  Lord  John  Cavendish,  who  was  with 
me  two  hours  this  morning,  does  not,  I  believe, 
take  me  for  a  hero.  As  there  are  some  who  I  know 
would  enjoy  my  mortification,  and  who  probably 
designed  I  should  feel  my  share  of  it,  I  wish  to 
command  myself;  but  that  struggle  shall  be  added 
to  their  bill.  I  saw  nobody  else  before  I  came 
away  but  Legge,  who  sent  for  me  and  wrote  the 
enclosed  for  you.  He  would  have  said  more  both 
to  you  and  Lady  Ailesbury,1  but  I  would  not  let 
him,  as  he  is  so  ill ;  however,  he  thinks  himself 
1  Conway's  wife. 


70  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

that  he  shall  live.  I  hope  he  will !     I  would  not 
lose  a  shadow  that  can  haunt  these  Ministers. 

I  feel  for  Lady  Ailesbury,  because  I  know  she 
feels  just  as  I  do,  —  and  it  is  not  a  pleasant  sen- 
sation. I  will  say  no  more,  though  I  could  write 
volumes.  Adieu  !  Yours,  as  I  ever  have  been  and 
ever  will  be. 


XVIII. 

PICTURE  OF  "THE  TOWN." 
To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Dec.  16,  1764. 
As  I  have  not  read  in  the  paper  that  you  died 
lately  at  Greatworth,  in  Northamptonshire,  nor  have 
met  with  any  Montagu  or  Trevor  in  mourning,  I  con- 
clude you  are  living ;  I  send  this,  however,  to  inquire, 
and  if  you  should  happen  to  be  departed,  hope 
your  executor  will  be  so  kind  as  to  burn  it.  Though 
you  do  not  seem  to  have  the  same  curiosity  about 
my  existence,  you  may  gather  from  my  handwriting 
that  I  am  still  in  being ;  which  being  perhaps  full 
as  much  as  you  want  to  know  of  me,  I  will  trouble 
you  with  no  farther  particulars  about  myself,  —  nay, 
nor  about  anybody  else ;  your  curiosity  seeming  to 
be  pretty  much  the  same  about  all  the  world. 
News  there  are  certainly  none,  nobody  is  even 
dead,  as  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle  [Lyttelton]  told  me 
to-day,  —  which  I  repeat  to  you  in  general ;  though 
I  apprehend  in  his  own  mind  he  meant  no  possessor 
of  a  better  bishopric. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALFOLE.  71 

If  you  like  to  know  the  state  of  the  town,  here 
it  is.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  very  empty ;  in  the 
next,  there  are  more  diversions  than  the  week  will 
hold.  A  charming  Italian  opera,  with  no  dances 
and  no  company,  at  least  on  Tuesdays ;  to  supply 
which  defect,  the  subscribers  are  to  have  a  ball  and 
supper,  —  a  plan  that  in  my  humble  opinion  will  fill 
the  Tuesdays  and  empty  the  Saturdays.  At  both 
playhouses  are  woful  English  operas,  —  which,  how- 
ever, fill  better  than  the  Italian,  patriotism  being 
entirely  confined  to  our  ears ;  how  long  the  sages 
of  the  law  may  leave  us  those  I  cannot  say.  Mrs. 
Cornelis,1  apprehending  the  future  assembly  at  Al- 
mack's,  has  enlarged  her  vast  room  and  hung  it  with 
blue  satin,  and  another  with  yellow  satin ;  but  Al- 
mack's  room,  which  is  to  be  ninety  feet  long,  proposes 
to  swallow  up  both  hers  as  easily  as  Moses's  rod  gob- 
bled down  those  of  the  magicians.  Well,  but  there 
are  more  joys,  —  a  dinner  and  assembly  every  Tues- 
day at  the  Austrian  minister's ;  ditto  on  Thursdays 
at  the  Spaniard's;  ditto  on  Wednesdays  and  Sun- 
days at  the  French  ambassador's ;  besides  Madame 
de  Welderen's  on  Wednesdays,  Lady  Harrington's 
Sundays,  and  occasional  private  mobs  at  my  Lady 
Northumberland's.  Then  for  the  mornings,  there 
are  levees  and  drawing-rooms  without  end,  —  not 
to  mention  the  Maccaroni  Club,  which  has  quite 
absorbed  Arthur's ;  for  you  know  old  fools  will 
hobble  after  young  ones.  Of  all  these  pleasures, 
I  prescribe  myself  a  very  small  pittance,  —  my  dark 
corner  in  my  own  box  at  the  Opera,  and  now  and 
1  A  German  singer. 


7  2  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

then  an  ambassador,  to  keep  my  French  going  till 
my  journey  to  Paris.  Politics  are  gone  to  sleep, 
like  a  paroli  at  pharaoh ;  though  there  is  the  finest 
tract  lately  published  that  ever  was  written,  called 
an  "  Inquiry  into  the  Doctrine  of  Libels."  It 
would  warm  your  old  Algernon  blood ;  but  for 
what  anybody  cares,  might  as  well  have  been 
written  about  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster. 
The  thing  most  in  fashion  is  my  edition  of  Lord 
Herbert's  Life ;  people  are  mad  after  it,  —  I  believe 
because  only  two  hundred  were  printed ;  and  by 
the  numbers  that  admire  it,  I  am  convinced  that 
if  I  had  kept  his  lordship's  counsel,  very  few 
would  have  found  out  the  absurdity  of  it.  The 
caution  with  which  I  hinted  at  its  extravagance,  has 
passed  with  several  for  approbation,  and  drawn  on 
theirs.  This  is  nothing  new  to  me ;  it  is  when 
one  laughs  out  at  their  idols  that  one  angers 
people.  I  do  not  wonder  now  that  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  was  the  darling  hero,  when  Lord  Herbert, 
who  followed  him  so  close  and  trod  in  his  steps, 
is  at  this  time  of  day  within  an  ace  of  rivalling 
him.  I  wish  I  had  let  him ;  it  was  contradicting 
one  of  my  own  maxims,  which  I  hold  to  be  very 
just :  that  it  is  idle  to  endeavor  to  cure  the  world 
of  any  folly,  unless  we  could  cure  it  of  being 
foolish. 

Tell  me  whether  I  am  likely  to  see  you  before 
I  go  to  Paris,  which  will  be  early  in  February. 
I  hate  you  for  being  so  indifferent  about  me.  I 

1  Montague  was  related  on  his  mother's  side  to  Algernon 
Sidney. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  73 

live  in  the  world,  and  yet  love  nothing,  care  a 
straw  for  nothing  but  two  or  three  old  friends 
that  I  have  loved  these  thirty  years.  You  have 
buried  yourself  with  half-a-dozen  parsons  and 
'squires,  and  yet  never  cast  a  thought  upon  those 
you  have  always  lived  with.  You  come  to  town 
for  two  months,  grow  tired  in  six  weeks,  hurry 
away,  and  then  one  hears  no  more  of  you  till  next 
winter.  I  don't  want  you  to  like  the  world,  I  like 
it  no  more  than  you ;  but  I  stay  a  while  in  it,  be- 
cause while  one  sees  it  one  laughs  at  it,  but  when 
one  gives  it  up  one  grows  angry  with  it,  —  and  I 
hold  it  much  wiser  to  laugh  than  to  be  out  of 
humor.  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  ill  blood 
this  perseverance  has  cured  me  of ;  I  used  to  say 
to  myself,  "  Lord  !  this  person  is  so  bad,  that  per- 
son is  so  bad,  I  hate  them."  I  have  now  found  out 
that  they  are  all  pretty  much  alike,  and  I  hate 
nobody.  Having  never  found  you  out  but  for 
integrity  and  sincerity,  I  am  much  disposed  to 
persist  in  a  friendship  with  you ;  but  if  I  am 
to  be  at  all  the  pains  of  keeping  it  up,  I  shall 
imitate  my  neighbors  (I  don't  mean  those  at  next 
door,  but  in  the  Scripture  sense  of  neighbor,  —  any- 
body) ,  and  say,  "  That  is  a  very  good  man,  but 
I  don't  care  a  farthing  for  him."  Till  I  have 
taken  my  final  resolution  on  that  head,  I  am  yours 
most  cordially. 


74  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

XIX. 

ORIGIN  OF  THE  "  CASTLE  OF  OTRANTO." 

To  the  Rev-  William  Cole.1 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  March  9,  1765. 
DEAR  SIR,  —  I  had  time  to  write  but  a  short  note 
with  the  "Castle  of  Otranto,"  as  your  messenger 
called  on  me  at  four  o'clock,  as  I  was  going  to  dine 
abroad.  Your  partiality  to  me  and  Strawberry  have, 
I  hope,  inclined  you  to  excuse  the  wildness  of  the 
story.  You  will  even  have  found  some  traits  to  put 
you  in  mind  of  this  place.  When  you  read  of  the 
picture  quitting  its  panel,  did  not  you  recollect  the 
portrait  of  Lord  Falkland,  all  in  white,  in  my  Gal- 
lery? Shall  I  even  confess  to  you  what  was  the 
origin  of  this  romance  ?  I  waked  one  morning,  in  the 
beginning  of  last  June,  from  a  dream,  of  which  all 
I  could  recover  was  that  I  had  thought  myself  in 
an  ancient  castle  (a  very  natural  dream  for  a  head 
filled  like  mine  with  Gothic  story),  and  that  on  the 
uppermost  bannister  of  a  great  staircase  I  saw  a  gi- 
gantic hand  in  armor.  In  the  evening  I  sat  down 
and  began  to  write,  without  knowing  in  the  least 
what  I  intended  to  say  or  relate.  The  work  grew 
on  my  hands,  and  I  grew  fond  of  it  —  add  that  I 
was  very  glad  to  think  of  anything  rather  than 
politics.  In  short,  I  was  so  engrossed  with  my  tale, 
which  I  completed  in  less  than  two  months,  that  one 

1  A  distinguished  antiquary,   vicar  of   Burnham   in   the 
county  of  Bucks. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  75 

evening  I  wrote  from  the  time  I  had  drunk  my  tea, 
about  six  o'clock,  till  half  an  hour  after  one  in  the 
morning,  when  my  hand  and  fingers  were  so  weary 
that  I  could  not  hold  the  pen  to  finish  the  sentence 
but  left  Matilda  and  Isabella  talking,  in  the  middle 
of  a  paragraph.  You  will  laugh  at  my  earnestness  ; 
but  if  I  have  amused  you,  by  retracing  with  any 
fidelity  the  manners  of  ancient  days,  I  am  content, 
and  give  you  leave  to  think  me  as  idle  as  you 
please. 

You  are,  as  you  have  long  been  to  me,  exceed- 
ingly kind,  and  I  should  with  great  satisfaction  em- 
brace your  offer  of  visiting  the  solitude  of  Blechley, 
though  my  cold  is  in  a  manner  gone,  and  my  cough 
quite,  if  I  was  at  liberty ;  but  I  am  preparing  for  my 
fresh  journey,  and  have  forty  businesses  upon  my 
hands,  and  can  only  now  and  then  purloin  a  day,  or 
half  a  day,  to  come  hither.  You  know  I  am  not 
cordially  disposed  to  your  French  journey,  which  is 
much  more  serious,  as  it  is  to  be  much  more  lasting. 
However,  though  I  may  suffer  by  your  absence,  I 
would  not  dissuade  what  may  suit  your  inclination 
and  circumstances.  One  thing,  however,  has  struck 
me  which  I  must  mention,  though  it  would  depend 
on  a  circumstance  that  would  give  me  the  most  real 
concern.  It  was  suggested  to  me  by  that  real  fond- 
ness I  have  for  your  MSS.,  for  your  kindness  about 
which  I  feel  the  utmost  gratitude.  You  would  not, 
I  think,  leave  them  behind  you ;  and  are  you  aware 
of  the  danger  you  would  run  if  you  settled  entirely 
in  France  ?  Do  you  know  that  the  King  of  France 
is  heir  to  all  strangers  who  die  in  his  dominions,  by 


76  LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

what  they  call  the  Droit  d'Aubaine?  Sometimes, 
by  great  interest  and  favor,  persons  have  obtained  a 
remission  of  this  right  in  their  lifetime  ;  and  yet  that, 
even  that,  has  not  secured  their  effects  from  being 
embezzled.  Old  Lady  Sandwich  had  obtained  this 
remission,  and  yet,  though  she  left  everything  to  the 
present  Lord,  her  grandson,  a  man  for  whose  rank 
one  should  have  thought  they  would  have  had  re- 
gard, the  King's  officers  forced  themselves  into  her 
house,  after  her  death,  and  plundered.  You  see,  if 
you  go,  I  shall  expect  to  have  your  MSS.  deposited 
with  me.  Seriously,  you  must  leave  them  in  safe 
custody  behind  you. 

Lord  Essex's  trial  is  printed  with  the  State  Trials. 
In  return  for  your  obliging  offer,  I  can  acquaint 
you  with  a  delightful  publication  of  this  winter,  A 
Collection  of  Old  Ballads  and  Poetry,  in  three  vol- 
umes, many  from  Pepys's  Collection  at  Cambridge. 
There  were  three  such  published  between  thirty  and 
forty  years  ago,  but  very  carelessly,  and  wanting 
many  in  this  set,  —  indeed,  there  were  others,  of  a 
looser  sort,  which  the  present  editor  [Dr.  Percy], 
who  is  a  clergyman,  thought  it  decent  to  omit. 

When  you  go  into  Cheshire,  and  upon  your  ram- 
ble, may  I  trouble  you  with  a  commission?  but 
about  which  you  must  promise  me  not  to  go  a  step 
out  of  your  way.  Mr.  Bateman  has  got  a  cloister  at 
Old  Windsor,  furnished  with  ancient  wooden  chairs, 
most  of  them  triangular,  but  all  of  various  patterns, 
and  carved  and  turned  in  the  most  uncouth  and 
whimsical  forms.  He  picked  them  up,  one  by  one, 
for  two,  three,  five,  or  six  shillings  apiece  from  dif- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  77 

ferent  farm-houses  in  Herefordshire.  I  have  long 
envied  and  coveted  them.  There  may  be  such 
in  poor  cottages  in  so  neighboring  a  county  as 
Cheshire.  I  should  not  grudge  any  expense  for 
purchase  or  carriage,  and  should  be  glad  even  of  a 
couple  such  for  my  cloister  here.  When  you  are 
copying  inscriptions  in  a  churchyard  in  any  village, 
think  of  me,  and  step  into  the  first  cottage  you  see ; 
but  don't  take  further  trouble  than  that. 

I  long  to  know  what  your  bundle  of  manuscripts 
from  Cheshire  contains. 

My  bower  is  determined,  but  not  at  all  what  it  is 
to  be.  Though  I  write  romances,  I  cannot  tell  how 
to  build  all  that  belongs  to  them.  Madame  Danois, 
in  the  Fairy  Tales,  used  to  tapestry  them  with_/#?2- 
quils ;  but  as  that  furniture  will  not  last  above  a 
fortnight  in  the  year,  I  shall  prefer  something  more 
huckaback.  I  have  decided  that  the  outside  shall 
be  of  treillage,  which,  however,  I  shall  not  commence 
till  I  have  again  seen  some  of  old  Louis's  old-fash- 
ioned Galanteries  at  Versailles.  Rosamond's  bower, 
you  and  I  and  Tom  Hearne  know,  was  a  labyrinth ; 
but  as  my  territory  will  admit  of  a  very  short  clew, 
I  lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  a  mazy  habitation  :  though 
a  bower  is  very  different  from  an  arbor,  and  must 
have  more  chambers  than  one.  In  short,  I  both 
know  and  don't  know  what  it  should  be.  I  am 
almost  afraid  I  must  go  and  read  Spenser,  and  wade  ' 
through  his  allegories  and  drawling  stanzas,  to  get 
at  a  picture.  But  good  night !  you  see  how  one 
gossips  when  one  is  alone  and  at  quiet  on  one's 
own  dunghill !  Well,  it  may  be  trifling ;  yet  it  is 


7 8  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

such  trifling  as  Ambition  never  is  happy  enough  to 
know  !  Ambition  orders  palaces,  but  it  is  Content 
that  chats  for  a  page  or  two  over  a  bower. 


XX. 

WITH  A  COPY  OF  THE  "CASTLE  OF  OTRANTO." 
To  Dr.   Joseph  Warton. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  March  16,  1765. 
SIR,  —  You  have  shown  so  much  of  what  I  fear  I 
must  call  partiality  to  me  that  I  could  not  in  con- 
science send  you  the  trifle  that  accompanies  this 
till  the  unbiassed  public,  who  knew  not  the  author, 
told  me  that  it  was  not  quite  unworthy  of  being 
offered  to  you.  Still,  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether 
its  ambition  of  copying  the  manners  of  an  age  which 
you  love,  may  not  make  you  too  favorable  to  it,  or 
whether  its  awkward  imitation  of  them  may  not  sub- 
ject it  to  your  censure.  In  fact,  it  is  but  partially 
an  imitation  of  ancient  romances  ;  being  rather  in- 
tended for  an  attempt  to  blend  the  marvellous  of 
old  story  with  the  natural  of  modern  novels.  This 
was  in  great  measure  the  plan  of  a  work  which,  to 
say  the  truth,  was  begun  without  any  plan  at  all. 
But  I  will  not  trouble  you,  sir,  at  present  with  en- 
larging on  my  design,  which  I  have  fully  explained 
in  a  preface  prepared  for  a  second  edition,  which 
the  sale  of  the  former  makes  me  in  a  hurry  to  send 
out.  I  do  not  doubt,  Sir,  but  you  have  with  pleasure 
looked  over  more  genuine  remains  of  ancient  days, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.  79 

—  the  three  volumes  of  old  Poems  and  Ballads ; 
most  of  them  are  curious,  and  some  charming.  The 
dissertations  too  I  think  are  sensible,  concise,  and 
unaffected.  Let  me  recommend  to  you  also  the 
perusal  of  the  Life  of  Petrarch,  of  which  two  large 
volumes  in  quarto  are  already  published  by  the  Abbe" 
de  Sade,  with  the  promise  of  a  third.  Three  quartos 
on  Petrarch  will  not  terrify  a  man  of  your  curiosity, 
though  without  omitting  the  memoirs  and  anecdotes 
of  Petrarch's  age,  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  work, 
they  might  have  been  comprised  in  much  less  com- 
pass ;  many  of  the  sonnets  might  have  been  sunk, 
and  almost  all  his  translations  of  them.  Though 
Petrarch  appears  to  have  been  far  from  a  genius, 
singly  excepting  the  harmonious  beauty  of  his  words, 
yet  one  forgives  the  partiality  of  a  biographer,  though 
Monsieur  de  Sade  seems  as  much  enchanted  with 
Petrarch  as  the  age  was  in  which  he  lived,  whilst 
their  ignorance  of  good  authors  excuses  their  bigotry 
to  the  restorer  of  taste.  You  will  not,  I  believe,  be  so 
thoroughly  convinced  as  the  biographer  seems  to  be, 
of  the  authentic  discovery  of  Laura's  body,  and  the 
sonnet  placed  on  her  bosom.  When  a  lady  dies  of 
the  plague  in  the  height  of  its  ravages,  it  is  not  very 
probable  that  her  family  thought  of  interring  poetry 
with  her,  or  indeed  of  anything  but  burying  her  body 
as  quickly  as  they  could  ;  nor  is  it  more  likely  that 
a  pestilential  vault  was  opened  afterwards  for  that 
purpose.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  sonnet  was 
prepared  and  slipped  into  the  tomb  when  they  were 
determined  to  find  her  corpse.  When  you  read  the 
notes  to  the  second  volume,  you  will  grow  very 


80  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

impatient  for  Monsieur  de  St.  Palaye's  promised  his- 
tory of  the  Troubadours.  Have  we  any  manuscript 
that  could  throw  light  on  that  subject? 

I  cannot  conclude,  Sir,  without  reminding  you  of 
a  hope  you  once  gave  me  of  seeing  you  in  town  or 
at  Strawberry  Hill.  I  go  to  Paris  the  end  of  May 
or  beginning  of  June  for  a  few  months,  where  I 
should  be  happy  if  I  could  execute  any  literary 
commission  for  you. 


XXI. 

CONSOLATIONS  OF  AUTHORSHIP. 
To  Sir  David  Dalrymplel 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  April  21,  1765. 
SIR,  —  Except  the  mass  of  Conway  papers,  on 
which  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  enter  seriously,  I 
am  sorry  I  have  nothing  at  present  that  would 
answer  your  purpose.  Lately,  indeed,  I  have  had 
little  leisure  to  attend  to  literary  pursuits.  I  have 
been  much  out  of  order  with  a  violent  cold  and 
cough  for  great  part  of  the  winter ;  and  the  dis- 
tractions of  this  country,  which  reach  even  those 
who  mean  the  least  to  profit  by  their  country,  have 
not  left  even  me,  who  hate  politics,  without  some 
share  in  them.  Yet  as  what  one  does  not  love, 
cannot  engross  one  entirely,  I  have  amused  myself 
a  little  with  writing.  Our  friend  Lord  Finlater  will 

1  Author  of  The  Annals  of  Scotland. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  81 

perhaps  show  you  the  fruit  of  that  trifling,  though 
I  had  not  the  confidence  to  trouble  you  with  such  a 
strange  thing  as  a  miraculous  story,  of  which  I  fear 
the  greatest  merit  is  the  novelty. 

I  have  lately  perused  with  much  pleasure  a  col- 
lection of  old  ballads  [Percy's],  to  which  I  see,  sir, 
you  have  contributed  with  your  usual  benevolence. 
Continue  this  kindness  to  the  public,  and  smile  as  I 
do  when  the  pains  you  take  for  them  are  misunder- 
stood or  perverted.  Authors  must  content  them- 
selves with  hoping  that  two  or  three  intelligent 
persons  in  an  age  will  understand  the  merit  of  their 
writings,  and  those  authors  are  bound  in  good 
breeding  to  suppose  that  the  public  in  general  is 
enlightened.  They  who  are  in  the  secret  know 
how  few  of  that  public  they  have  any  reason  to 
wish  should  read  their  works.  I  beg  pardon  of  my 
masters  the  public,  and  am  confident,  sir,  you  will 
not  betray  me  ;  but  let  me  beg  you  not  to  defraud 
the  few  that  deserve  your  information,  in  compli- 
ment to  those  who  are  not  capable  of  receiving  it. 
Do  as  I  do  about  my  small  house  here.  Every- 
body that  comes  to  see  it  or  me  are  so  good  as  to 
wonder  that  I  don't  make  this  or  that  alteration.  I 
never  haggle  with  them,  but  always  say  I  intend  it. 
They  are  satisfied  with  the  attention  and  themselves, 
and  I  remain  with  the  enjoyment  of  my  house  as  I 
like  it.  Adieu,  dear  sir  ! 


82  LETTERS  OF  HORACE   IVALPOLE. 

XXII. 
FRENCH   SOCIETY  AND  TASTE. 

To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

PARIS,  &ft.  22,  1765. 

THE  concern  I  felt  at  not  seeing  you  before  I 
left  England  might  make  me  express  myself  warmly, 
but  I  assure  you  it  was  nothing  but  concern,  nor 
was  mixed  with  a  grain  of  pouting.  I  knew  some 
of  your  reasons,  and  guessed  others.  The  latter 
grieve  me  heartily ;  but  I  advise  you  to  do  as  I  do : 
when  I  meet  with  ingratitude,  I  take  a  short  leave 
both  of  it  and  its  host.  Formerly  I  used  to  look 
out  for  indemnification  somewhere  else  ;  but  having 
lived  long  enough  to  learn  that  the  reparation  gen- 
erally proved  a  second  evil  of  the  same  sort,  I  am 
content  now  to  skin  over  such  wounds  with  amuse- 
ments, which  at  least  leave  no  scars.  It  is  true, 
amusements  do  not  always  amuse  when  we  bid 
them;  I  find  it  so  here.  Nothing  strikes  me; 
everything  I  do  is  indifferent  to  me.  I  like  the 
people  very  well  and  their  way  of  life  very  well ; 
but  as  neither  were  my  object,  I  should  not  much 
care  if  they  were  any  other  people,  Or  it  was  any 
other  way  of  life.  I  am  out  of  England,  and  my 
purpose  is  answered. 

Nothing  can  be  more  obliging  than  the  reception 
I  meet  with  everywhere.  It  may  not  be  more 
sincere  (and  why  should  it?)  than  our  cold  and 
bare  civility;  but  it  is  better  dressed  and  looks 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  83 

natural :  one  asks  no  more.  I  have  begun  to  sup 
in  French  houses,  and  as  Lady  Hertford  has  left 
Paris  to-day,  shall  increase  my  intimacies.  There 
are  swarms  of  English  here,  but  most  of  them  are 
going,  to  my  great  satisfaction.  As  the  greatest 
part  are  very  young,  they  can  no  more  be  enter- 
taining to  me  than  I  to  them ;  and  it  certainly  was 
not  my  countrymen  that  I  came  to  live  with. 
Suppers  please  me  extremely ;  I  love  to  rise  and 
breakfast  late,  and  to  trifle  away  the  day  as  I  like. 
There  are  sights  enough  to  answer  that  end,  and 
shops,  you  know,  are  an  endless  field  for  me.  The 
city  appears  much  worse  to  me  than  I  thought  I 
remembered  it;  the  French  music  as  shocking  as 
I  knew  it  was.  The  French  stage  is  fallen  off, 
though  in  the  only  part  I  have  seen  Le  Kain  I 
admire  him  extremely.  He  is  very  ugly  and  ill- 
made,  and  yet  has  an  heroic  dignity  which  Garrick 
wants,  and  great  fire.  The  Dumenil  I  have  not 
seen  yet,  but  shall  in  a  day  or  two.  It  is  a  mortifi- 
cation that  I  cannot  compare  her  with  the  Clairon, 
who  has  left  the  stage.  Grandval  I  saw  through  a 
whole  play  without  suspecting  it  was  he.  Alas ! 
four  and  twenty  years  make  strange  havoc  with  us 
mortals.  You  cannot  imagine  how  this  struck  me  ! 
The  Italian  comedy,  now  united  with  their  opdra 
comique,  is  their  most  perfect  diversion ;  but  alas  ! 
harlequin,  my  dear  favorite  harlequin,  my  passion, 
makes  me  more  melancholy  than  cheerful.  In- 
stead of  laughing,  I  sit  silently  reflecting  how  every- 
thing loses  charms  when  one's  own  youth  does  not 
lend  it  gilding  !  When  we  are  divested  of  that 


84  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

eagerness  and  illusion  with  which  our  youth  pre- 
sents objects  to  us,  we  are  but  the  caput  mortuum 
of  pleasure. 

Grave  as  these  ideas  are,  they  do  not  unfit  me 
for  French  company.  The  present  tone  is  serious 
enough  in  conscience.  Unluckily,  the  subjects  of 
their  conversation  are  duller  to  me  than  my  own 
thoughts,  which  may  be  tinged  with  melancholy 
reflections,  but  I  doubt  from  my  constitution  will 
never  be  insipid. 

The  French  affect  philosophy,  literature,  and 
freethinking :  the  first  never  did,  and  never  will 
possess  me ;  of  the  two  others  I  have  long  been 
tired.  Freethinking  is  for  one's  self,  surely  not  for 
society.  Besides,  one  has  settled  one's  way  of  think- 
ing, or  knows  it  cannot  be  settled ;  and  for  others  I 
do  not  see  why  there  is  not  as  much  bigotry  in 
attempting  conversions  from  any  religion  as  to  it. 
I  dined  to-day  with  a  dozen  savants  ;  and  though  all 
the  servants  were  waiting,  the  conversation  was 
much  more  unrestrained,  even  on  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, than  I  would  suffer  at  my  own  table  in  Eng- 
land if  a  single  footman  was  present.  For  literature 
it  is  very  amusing  when  one  has  nothing  else  to 
do.  I  think  it  rather  pedantic  in  society,  tiresome 
when  displayed  professedly;  and  besides,  in  this 
country  one  is  sure  it  is  only  the  fashion  of  the  day. 
Their  taste  in  it  is  worst  of  all :  could  one  believe 
that  when  they  read  our  authors,  Richardson  and 
Mr.  Hume  should  be  their  favorites?  The  latter  is 
treated  here  with  perfect  veneration.  His  History, 
so  falsified  in  many  points,  so  partial  in  as  many,  so 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE.  85 

very  unequal  in  its  parts,  is  thought  the  standard  of 
writing. 

In  their  dress  and  equipages  they  are  grown  very 
simple.  We  English  are  living  upon  their  old  gods 
and  goddesses ;  I  roll  about  in  a  chariot  decorated 
with  cupids,  and  look  like  the  grandfather  of 
Adonis. 

Of  their  parliaments  and  clergy  I  hear  a  good 
deal  and  attend  very  little ;  I  cannot  take  up  any 
history  in  the  middle,  and  was  too  sick  of  politics 
at  home  to  enter  into  them  here.  In  short,  I  have 
done  with  the  world,  and  live  in  it  rather  than  in 
a  desert,  like  you.  Few  men  can  bear  absolute 
retirement,  and  we  English  worst  of  all.  We  grow 
so  humorsome,  so  obstinate  and  capricious,  and  so 
prejudiced,  that  it  requires  a  fund  of  good-nature 
like  yours  not  to  grow  morose.  Company  keeps 
our  rind  from  growing  too  coarse  and  rough ;  and 
though  at  my  return  I  design  not  to  mix  in  public, 
I  do  not  intend  to  be  quite  a  recluse.  My  absence 
will  put  it  in  my  power  to  take  up  or  drop  as  much 
as  I  please.  Adieu  !  I  shall  inquire  about  your 
commission  of  books,  but  having  been  arrived  but 
ten  days  have  not  yet  had  time.  Need  I  say?  — 
no,  I  need  not  —  that  nobody  can  be  more  affec- 
tionately yours  than,  etc. 


86  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

XXIII. 

VANITY  OF  COURT-HONORS. 
To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

PARIS,  Nov.  30,  1765. 

ALLELUJAH,  Monsieur  1'Envoyd  !  I  was  going  to 
direct  to  you  by  this  title ;  but  if  your  credentials 
are  not  arrived,  as  I  hope  they  are  not,  that  I  may 
be  the  first  to  notify  your  new  dignity  to  you,  I  did 
not  know  how  your  new  court  would  take  it,  and 
therefore  I  postpone  your  surprise  till  you  have 
opened  my  letter,  —  if  it  loiters  on  the  road  like  its 
predecessors,  I  shall  be  out  of  all  patience.  In 
short,  my  last  express  tells  me  that  the  King  will 
name  you  Envoy  in  your  new  credentials.  You 
must  judge  of  the  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  have  ob- 
tained this  for  you,  my  dear  sir,  by  the  vexation  I 
expressed  on  thinking  I  could  not  effect  it.  All 
answer,  I  suppose,  to  my  solicitations  was  deferred 
till  I  could  be  told  they  had  succeeded. 

You  must  forget  or  erase  most  of  what  I  had  said 
to  you  lately,  for  when  I  can  serve  my  friends  I 
am  content.  Your  letters  had  been  so  many  and 
so  earnest,  and  I  so  little  expected  any  good  from 
my  intercession,  that  I  was  warmer  than  I  wish  I 
had  been ;  and  the  more,  as  I  see  I  was  in  part  un- 
just. I  doubted  everybody  but  Mr.  Conway,  and 
did  not  think  that  he  alone  had  power  to  do  what  I 
desired,  and  could  not  bear  you  should  think  I  ne- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  87 

glected  what  I  wished  so  much,  pleasing  you.  I 
have  done  it  to  my  great  satisfaction,  since  it  is  what 
you  had  so  much  at  heart ;  but  remember,  I  don't 
retract  my  sermon.  I  think  exactly  as  I  did,  that 
one  is  in  the  wrong  to  place  one's  peace  of  mind 
on  courts  and  honors  :  their  joys  are  most  moment- 
ary, violently  overbalanced  by  disappointments,  and 
empty  in  possession.  I  shall  not  excuse  you  if  you 
have  more  of  these  solicitudes ;  but  I  will  rejoice 
with  you  over  this  one  triumph,  of  which  I  will  do  you 
the  justice  to  believe  I  am  more  glad  than  you  are. 
You  must  thank  Mr.  Conway,  by  whom  I  obtained 
it,  as  if  you  owed  it  all  to  him.  You  know  I  hate 
to  be  talked  of  for  these  things,  and  therefore  insist 
that  my  name  be  not  mentioned  to  him  or  anybody 
but  your  brother.  It  will  be  the  last  favor  I  shall 
ever  ask ;  my  constant  plan  has  been  to  be  nobody, 
and  for  the  rest  of  my  days  I  shall  be  more  nobody 
than  ever.  You  must  gratify  me  with  this  silence. 
I  did  not  think  it  would  be  necessary,  or  I  should 
have  made  it  a  condition,  for  I  have  declared  so 
much  that  I  would  meddle  with  nothing,  that  it 
would  contradict  those  declarations,  and  disoblige 
some  for  whom  I  have  refused  to  interest  myself. 

As  I  grow  better,  I  am  more  reconciled  to  this 
country;  yet  I  shall  return  home  in  the  spring. 
Apprehensions  of  the  gout  make  one  as  old  as  the 
gout  itself,  and  cure  one  of  all  prospects.  I  must 
resign  that  pleasing  one,  so  long  entertained,  of  seeing 
you  at  Florence.  Your  new  establishment  forbids 
my  expecting  you  in  England.  Had  I  consulted 
my  own  wishes  I  should  have  let  you  have  been 


88  LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

cross  and  come  home ;  happily  I  am  not  so  selfish. 
I  have  learned,  too,  not  to  build  on  pleasures ;  they 
are  not  of  my  age.  I  must  go,  and  grow  old,  and 
bear  ennui ;  must  try  to  make  comforts  a  recom- 
pense for  living  in  a  country  where  I  do  not  love 
the  people.  My  great  spirits  think  all  this  a  difficult 
task ;  but  spirits  themselves  are  useless  when  one 
has  not  the  same  people  to  laugh  with  one  as  for- 
merly. I  have  no  joy  in  new  acquaintance,  because 
I  can  have  no  confidence  in  them.  Experience  and 
time  draw  a  line  between  older  persons  and  younger 
which  is  never  to  be  passed  with  satisfaction ;  and 
though  the  whole  bent  of  my  mind  was  formed  for 
youth,  fortunately  I  know  the  ridicule  of  letting  it 
last  too  long,  and  had  rather  act  a  part  unnatural  to 
me  than  a  foolish  one.  I  don't  love  acting  a  part 
at  all  —  if  I  grow  very  tired  of  it  I  will  return 
hither,  and  vary  the  scene ;  this  country  is  more 
favorable  to  latter  age  than  England,  and  what  a 
foreigner  does  is  of  no  consequence  anywhere. 
Adieu,  my  dear  Envoy !  My  letters  lately  seem 
very  grave ;  but  analyze  them,  you  will  find  them 
very  foolish. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,  89 


XXIV. 

CONCERNING    A    PARTICULAR    FRIEND,  AND    FRIEND- 
SHIP  IN   GENERAL. 

To  James  Crawford,  Esq.1 

PARIS,  March  6,  1766. 

You  cannot  conceive,  my  dear  sir,  how  happy  I 
was  to  receive  your  letters,  not  so  much  for  my  own 
sake  as  for  Madame  du  Deffand's.  I  do  not  mean 
merely  from  the  pleasure  your  letter  gave  her,  but 
because  it  wipes  off  the  reproaches  she  has  under- 
gone on  your  account.  They  have  at  once  twitted 
her  with  her  partiality  for  you,  and  your  indifference. 
Even  that  silly  Madame  de  la  Valiere  has  been  quite 
rude  to  her  on  your  subject.  You  will  not  be  sur- 
prised ;  you  saw  a  good  deal  of  their  falsehood  and 
spite,  and  I  have  seen  much  more.  They  have  not 
only  the  faults  common  to  the  human  heart,  but  that 
additional  meanness  and  malice  which  is  produced 
by  an  arbitrary  Government,  under  which  the  sub- 
jects dare  not  look  up  to  anything  great. 

The  King  has  just  thunderstruck  the  Parliament, 
and  they  are  all  charmed  with  the  thought  that  they 
are  still  to  grovel  at  the  foot  of  the  throne ;  but  let 
us  talk  of  something  more  meritorious.  Your  good 
old  woman  wept  like  a  child  with  her  poor  no  eyes 
as  I  read  your  letter  to  her.  I  did  not  wonder ;  it 
is  kind,  friendly,  delicate,  and  just,  —  so  just  that  it 

1  The  friend  of  Hume,  commonly  called  Fish  Crawford,  on 
account  of  his  curious  and  prying  disposition. 


90  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

vexes  me  to  be  forced  so  continually  to  combat  the 
goodness  of  her  heart  and  destroy  her  fond  visions 
of  friendship.  Ah  !  but,  said  she  at  last,  he  does 
not  talk  of  returning.  I  told  her,  if  anything  could 
bring  you  back,  or  me  either,  it  would  be  desire  of 
seeing  her.  I  think  so  of  you,  and  I  am  sure  so  of 
myself.  If  I  had  stayed  here  still,  I  have  learned 
nothing  but  to  know  them  more  thoroughly.  Their 
barbarity  and  injustice  to  our  good  old  friend  is  in- 
describable :  one  of  the  worst  is  just  dead,  Madame 
de  Lambert,  —  I  am  sure  you  will  not  regret  her. 
Madame  de  Forcalquier,  I  agree  with  you,  is  the 
most  sincere  of  her  acquaintances,  and  incapable  of 
doing  as  the  rest  do,  —  eat  her  suppers  when  they 
cannot  go  to  a  more  fashionable  house,  laugh  at  her, 
abuse  her,  nay,  try  to  raise  her  enemies  among  her 
nominal  friends.  They  have  succeeded  so  far  as  to 
make  that  unworthy  old  dotard,  the  President,  treat 
her  like  a  dog.  Her  nephew,  the  Archbishop  of 
Toulouse,  I  see,  is  not  a  jot  more  attached  to  her 
than  the  rest,  but  I  hope  she  does  not  perceive  it  so 
clearly  as  I  do.  Madame  de  Choiseul  I  really  think 
wishes  her  well ;  but  perhaps  I  am  partial.  The 
Princess  de  Beauveau  seems  very  cordial  too,  but  I 
doubt  the  Prince  a  little.  You  will  forgive  these 
details  about  a  person  you  love  and  have  so  much 
reason  to  love ;  nor  am  I  ashamed  of  interesting 
myself  exceedingly  about  her.  To  say  nothing  of 
her  extraordinary  parts,  she  is  certainly  the  most 
generous,  friendly  being  upon  earth ;  but  neither 
these  qualities  nor  her  unfortunate  situation  touch 
her  unworthy  acquaintance.  Do  you  know  that  she 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  91 

was  quite  angry  about  the  money  you  left  for  her 
servants?  Viar  would  by  no  means  touch  it,  and 
when  I  tried  all  I  could  to  obtain  her  permission 
for  their  taking  it,  I  prevailed  so  little  that  she  gave 
Viar  five  louis  for  refusing  it.  So  I  shall  bring  you 
back  your  draft,  and  you  will  only  owe  me  five  louis, 
which  I  added  to  what  you  gave  me  to  pay  for  the 
two  pieces  of  china  at  Dulac's,  which  will  be  sent  to 
England  with  mine. 

Well !  I  have  talked  too  long  on  Madame  du 
Deffand,  and  neglected  too  long  to  thank  you  for 
my  own  letter :  I  do  thank  you  for  it,  my  dear  sir, 
most  heartily  and  sincerely.  I  feel  all  your  worth 
and  all  the  gratitude  I  ought,  but  I  must  preach  to 
you  as  I  do  to  your  friend.  Consider  how  little 
time  you  have  known  me,  and  what  small  opportuni- 
ties you  have  had  of  knowing  my  faults.  I  know 
them  thoroughly ;  but  to  keep  your  friendship  within 
bounds,  consider  my  heart  is  not  like  yours,  young, 
good,  warm,  sincere,  and  impatient  to  bestow  itself. 
Mine  is  worn  with  the  baseness,  treachery,  and 
mercenariness  I  have  met  with.  It  is  suspicious, 
doubtful,  and  cooled.  I  consider  everything  round 
me  but  in  the  light  of  amusement,  because  if  I 
looked  at  it  seriously  I  should  detest  it.  I  laugh 
that  I  may  not  weep.  I  play  with  monkeys,  dogs, 
or  cats,  that  I  may  not  be  devoured  by  the  beast 
of  the  Gevaudan.1  I  converse  with  Mesdames  de 
Mirepoix,  Boufflers,  and  Luxembourg,  that  I  may 

1  A  fierce  animal  resembling  a  wolf,  which,  after  commit- 
ting great  ravages  on  life  and  property,  had  finally  been  killed 
and  placed  on  exhibition  in  the  Queen's  antechamber. 


92  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

not  love  Madame  du  Deffand  too  much ;  and  yet 
they  do  but  make  me  love  her  the  more.  But  don't 
love  me,  pray  don't  love  me.  Old  folks  are  but 
old  women,  who  love  their  last  lovers  as  much  as 
they  did  their  first.  I  should  still  be  liable  to  be- 
lieve you,  and  I  am  not  at  all  of  Madame  du  Def- 
fand's  opinion,  that  one  might  as  well  be  dead  as 
not  love  somebody.  I  think  one  had  better  be  dead 
than  love  anybody.  Let  us  compromise  this  matter ; 
you  shall  love  her,  since  she  likes  to  be  loved,  and 
I  will  be  the  confidant.  We  will  do  anything  we 
can  to  please  her.  I  can  go  no  farther ;  I  have 
taken  the  veil,  and  would  not  break  my  vow  for  the 
world.  If  you  will  converse  with  me  through  the 
grate  at  Strawberry  Hill,  I  desire  no  better  ;  but  not 
a  word  of  friendship  :  I  feel  no  more  than  if  I  pro- 
fessed it.  It  is  paper  credit,  and  like  all  other  bank- 
bills,  sure  to  be  turned  into  money  at  last.  I  think 
you  would  not  realize  me ;  but  how  do  you,  or  how 
do  I,  know  that  I  should  be  equally  scrupulous? 
The  Temple  of  Friendship,  like  the  ruins  in  the 
Campo  Vaccino,  is  reduced  to  a  single  column  at 
Stowe.  Those  dear  friends  have  hated  one  another 
till  some  of  them  are  forced  to  love  one  another 
again ;  and  as  the  cracks  are  soldered  by  hatred, 
perhaps  that  cement  may  hold  them  together.  You 
see  my  opinion  of  friendship  :  it  would  be  making 
you  a  fine  present  to  offer  you  mine  !  Your  Minis- 
ters may  not  know  it,  but  the  war  has  been  on  the 
point  of  breaking  out  here  between  France  and 
England,  and  upon  a  cause  very  English,  —  a  horse- 
race. Lord  Forbes  and  Lauragais  were  the  cham- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  93 

pions ;  they  rode,  but  the  second  lost.  His  horse 
being  ill,  it  died  that  night,  and  the  surgeons  on 
opening  it  swore  it  was  poisoned.  The  English 
suspect  that  a  groom,  who  I  suppose  had  been 
reading  Livy  or  Demosthenes,  poisoned  it  on  patri- 
otic principles,  to  ensure  victory  to  his  country. 
The  French,  on  the  contrary,  think  poison  as 
common  as  oats  or  beans  in  the  stables  at  New- 
market. In  short,  there  is  no  impertinence  they 
have  not  uttered,  and  it  has  gone  so  far  that  two 
nights  ago  it  was  said  that  the  King  had  forbid- 
den another  race,  which  is  appointed  for  Monday, 
between  the  Prince  de  Nassau  and  a  Mr.  Forth,  to 
prevent  national  animosities.  On  my  side  I  have 
tried  to  stifle  these  heats,  by  threatening  them  that 
Mr.  Pitt  is  coming  into  the  Ministry  again ;  and  it 
has  had  some  effect.  This  event  has  confirmed 
what  I  discovered  early  after  my  arrival,  that  the 
Anglomanie  was  worn  out ;  if  it  remains,  it  is  manie 
against  the  English.  All  this,  however,  is  for  your 
private  ear;  for  I  have  found  that  some  of  my 
letters  home,  in  which  I  had  spoken  a  little  freely, 
have  been  reported  to  do  me  disservice.  As  we 
are  not  friends,  I  may  trust  to  your  discretion  — 
may  not  I  ?  I  did  not  use  to  applaud  it  much. 

Perhaps  it  is  necessary  to  use  still  more  caution 
in  mentioning  me  to  Lord  Ossory.  Do  it  gently ; 
for  though  I  have  great  regard  for  him,  I  don't 
design  to  make  it  troublesome  to  him. 

You  don't  say  a  word  of  our  Duchess  [Grafton], 
so  superior  to  earthly  Duchesses  !  How  dignified 
she  will  appear  to  me  after  all  the  little  tracasseries 


94  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

of  Paris  !  I  trust  I  shall  see  her  soon.  Packing-up 
is  in  all  my  quarters,  but  though  I  quit  tittle-tattle, 
I  don't  design  to  head  a  squadron  of  mob  on  any 
side.  I  hate  politics  as  much  as  friendship,  and 
design  to  converse  at  home  as  I  have  done  here,  — 
with  DeVots,  Philosophers,  Choiseul,  Maurepas,  the 
Court,  and  the  Temple. 

What  a  volume  I  have  writ !  But  don't  be  fright- 
ened :  you  need  not  answer  it,  if  you  have  not  a 
mind,  for  I  shall  be  in  England  almost  as  soon  as 
I  could  receive  your  reply.  La  Geoffiniska  has 
received  three  sumptuous  robes  of  ermine,  martens 
and  Astrakan  lambs,  the  last  of  which  the  Czarina 
had,  I  suppose,  the  pleasure  of  flaying  alive  herself. 
"  Oh  !  pour  cela,  out"  says  old  Brantome,  who  always 
assents.  I  think  there  is  nothing  else  very  new : 
Mr.  Young  puns,  and  Dr.  Gem  does  not ;  Lorenzi l 
blunders  faster  than  one  can  repeat ;  Voltaire  writes 
volumes  faster  than  they  can  print ;  and  I  buy  china 
faster  than  I  can  pay  for  it.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you 
have  been  two  or  three  times  at  my  Lady  Hervey's. 
By  what  she  says  of  you,  you  may  be  comforted, 
though  you  miss  the  approbation  of  Madame  de 
Valentinois.  Her  golden  apple,  though  indeed 
after  all  Paris  has  gnawed  it,  is  reserved  for  Lord 
Holdernesse  !  Adieu  !  Yours  ever. 


1  Brother  of   Comte   Lorenzi,  the    French    minister   at 
Florence. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  95 

XXV. 

VISITS  A  WESLEY  MEETING. 

To  John  Chute,  Esq. 

BATH,  Oct.  10,  1766. 

I  AM  impatient  to  hear  that  your  charity  to  me  has 
not  ended  in  the  gout  to  yourself;  all  my  comfort 
is,  if  you  have  it,  that  you  have  good  Lady  Brown  to 
nurse  you. 

My  health  advances  faster  than  my  amusement. 
However,  I  have  been  at  one  opera,  Mr.  Wesley's. 
They  have  boys  and  girls  with  charming  voices,  that 
sing  hymns,  in  parts,  to  Scotch  ballad-tunes ;  but 
indeed  so  long  that  one  would  think  they  were  al- 
ready in  eternity,  and  knew  how  much  time  they 
had  before  them.  The  chapel  is  very  neat,  with  true 
Gothic  windows  (yet  I  am  not  converted)  ;  but  I 
was  glad  to  see  that  luxury  is  creeping  in  upon  them 
before  persecution  :  they  have  very  neat  mahogany 
stands  for  branches,  and  brackets  of  the  same  in 
taste.  At  the  upper  end  is  a  broad  hautpas  of  four 
steps,  advancing  in  the  middle ;  at  each  end  of  the 
broadest  part  are  two  of  my  eagles,  with  red  cush- 
ions for  the  parson  and  clerk.  Behind  them  rise 
three  more  steps,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  a  third 
eagle  for  pulpit,  —  scarlet-armed  chairs  to  all  three. 
On  either  hand,  a  balcony  for  elect  ladies.  The  rest 
of  the  congregation  sit  on  forms.  Behind  the  pit, 
in  a  dark  niche,  is  a  plain  table  within  rails,  —  so 
you  see  the  throne  is  for  the  apostle.  Wesley  is  a 


96  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

lean,  elderly  man,  fresh- colored,  his  hair  smoothly 
combed,  but  with  a  soupfon  of  curl  at  the  ends ; 
wondrous  clean,  but  as  evidently  an  actor  as  Gar- 
rick.  He  spoke  his  sermon,  but  so  fast  and  with 
so  little  accent  that  I  am  sure  he  has  often  uttered 
it,  for  it  was  like  a  lesson.  There  were  parts  and 
eloquence  in  it;  but  towards  the  end  he  exalted 
his  voice  and  acted  very  ugly  enthusiasm,  —  decried 
learning,  and  told  stories,  like  Latimer,  of  the  fool 
of  his  college,  who  said,  "  I  thanks  God  for  every- 
thing." Except  a  few  from  curiosity  and  some  hon- 
orable women,  the  congregation  was  very  mean. 
There  was  a  Scotch  Countess  of  Buchan,  who  is  car- 
rying a  pure  rosy,  vulgar  face  to  heaven,  and  who 
asked  Miss  Rich  if  that  was  the  author  of  the  poets. 
I  believe  she  meant  me  and  the  Noble  Authors. 

The  Bedfords  came  last  night.  Lord  Chatham 
was  with  me  yesterday  two  hours  :  looks  and  walks 
well,  and  is  in  excellent  political  spirits. 


XXVI. 

RESIGNING  HIS   SEAT  IN   PARLIAMENT. 
To  William  Langley,  Esq.,  Mayor  of  Lynn. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  March  13,  1767. 

SlR>  —  The   declining  state  of  my  health  and  a 

wish  of  retiring  from  all  public  business  have  for 

some  time  made  me  think  of  not  offering  my  service 

again  to  the  town  of  Lynn  as  one  of  their  represen- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  g^ 

tatives  in  Parliament.  I  was  even  on  the  point, 
above  eighteen  months  ago,  of  obtaining  to  have 
my  seat  vacated,  by  one  of  those  temporary  places 
often  bestowed  for  that  purpose ;  but  I  thought  it 
more  respectful,  and  more  consonant  to  the  great 
and  singular  obligations  I  have  to  the  corporation 
and  town  of  Lynn,  to  wait  till  I  had  executed  their 
commands  to  the  last  hour  of  the  commission  they 
had  voluntarily  intrusted  to  me. 

Till  then,  sir,  I  did  not  think  of  making  this  dec- 
laration ;  but  hearing  that  dissatisfaction  and  dissen- 
sions have  arisen  amongst  you  (of  which  I  am  so 
happy  as  to  have  been  in  no  shape  the  cause),  that 
a  warm  contest  is  expected,  and  dreading  to  see,  in 
the  uncorrupted  town  of  Lynn,  what  has  spread  too 
fatally  in  other  places,  and  what,  I  fear,  will  end  in 
the  ruin  of  this  constitution  and  country,  I  think  it 
my  duty,  by  an  early  declaration,  to  endeavor  to 
preserve  the  integrity  and  peace  of  so  great,  so  re- 
spectable, and  so  unblemished  a  borough. 

My  father  was  re-chosen  by  the  free  voice  of  Lynn 
when  imprisoned  and  expelled  by  an  arbitrary  Court 
and  prostitute  Parliament ;  and  from  affection  to  his 
name,  not  from  the  smallest  merit  in  me,  they  unani- 
mously demanded  me  for  their  member  while  I  was 
sitting  for  Castle-Rising.  Gratitude  exacts  what  in 
any  other  light  might  seem  vainglorious  in  me  to 
say;  but  it  is  to  the  lasting  honor  of  the  town  of 
Lynn  I  declare  that  I  have  represented  them  in  two 
Parliaments  without  offering,  or  being  asked,  for  the 
smallest  gratification  by  any  one  of  my  constituents. 
May  I  be  permitted,  sir,  to  flatter  myself  they  are 
7 


9  8  LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

persuaded  their  otherwise  unworthy  representative 
has  not  disgraced  so  free  and  unbiassed  a  choice  ? 

I  have  sat  above  five  and  twenty  years  in  Parlia- 
ment ;  and  allow  me  to  say,  sir,  as  I  am,  in  a  man- 
ner, giving  up  my  account  to  my  constituents,  that 
my  conduct  in  Parliament  has  been  as  pure  as  my 
manner  of  coming  thither.  No  man  who  is  or  has 
been  Minister  can  say  that  I  have  ever  asked  or 
received  a  personal  favor.  My  votes  have  neither 
been  dictated  by  favor  nor  influence,  but  by  the 
principles  on  which  the  Revolution  was  founded,  the 
principles  by  which  we  enjoy  the  establishment  of 
the  present  Royal  Family,  the  principles  to  which 
the  town  of  Lynn  has  ever  adhered,  and  by  which 
my  father  commenced  and  closed  his  venerable  life. 
The  best  and  only  honors  I  desire  would  be  to  find 
that  my  conduct  has  been  acceptable  and  satisfactory 
to  my  constituents. 

From  your  kindness,  sir,  I  must  entreat  to  have 
this  notification  made  in  the  most  respectful  and 
grateful  manner  to  the  corporation  and  town  of 
Lynn.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  obligation  I  have 
to  them  but  my  sensibility  to  their  favors ;  and  be 
assured,  sir,  that  no  terms  can  outgo  the  esteem  I 
have  for  so  upright  and  untainted  a  borough,  or  the 
affection  I  feel  for  all  their  goodness  to  my  family 
and  to  me.  My  trifling  services  will  be  overpaid  if 
they  graciously  accept  my  intention  of  promoting 
their  union  and  preserving  their  virtue ;  and  though 
I  may  be  forgotten,  I  never  shall,  or  can,  forget  the 
obligations  they  have  conferred  on,  sir,  their  and 
your  most  devoted,  humble  servant. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  99 

XXVII. 

IN  PARIS  AGAIN  WITH  MADAME  DU  DEFFAND. 
To  George  Montagu,  Esq. 

PARIS,  Sept.  7,  1769. 

YOUR  two  letters  flew  here  together  in  a  breath.  I 
shall  answer  the  article  of  business  first.  I  could 
certainly  buy  many  things  for  you  here  that  you 
would  like,  — the  relics  of  the  last  age's  magnifi- 
cence ;  but  since  my  Lady  Holdernesse  invaded  the 
Custom  House  with  an  hundred  and  fourteen  gowns 
in  the  reign  of  that  twopenny  monarch,  George 
Grenville,  the  ports  are  so  guarded  that  not  a  soul 
but  a  smuggler  can  smuggle  anything  into  England ; 
and  I  suppose  you  would  not  care  to  pay  seventy- 
five  per  cent  on  second-hand  commodities.  All  I 
transported  three  years  ago  was  conveyed  under  the 
canon  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond.  I  have  no  inter- 
est in  our  present  representative,  nor,  if  I  had,  is  he 
returning.  Plate,  of  all  earthly  vanities,  is  the  most 
impassable :  it  is  not  contraband  in  its  metallic  ca- 
pacity, but  totally  so  in  its  personal ;  and  the  officers 
of  the  Custom  House  not  being  philosophers  enough 
to  separate  the  substance  from  the  superficies,  bru- 
tally hammer  both  to  pieces,  and  return  you  only 
the  intrinsic,  —  a  compensation  which  you,  who  are 
no  member  of  Parliament,  would  not,  I  trow,  be  sat- 
isfied with.  Thus  I  doubt  you  must  retrench  your 
generosity  to  yourself,  unless  you  can  contract  it  into 


100         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

an  Elzevir  size,  and  be   content  with  anything  one 
can  bring  in  one's  pocket. 

My  dear  old  friend  [Madame  du  Deffand]  was 
charmed  with  your  mention  of  her,  and  made  me 
vow  to  return  you  a  thousand  compliments.  She 
cannot  conceive  why  you  will  not  step  hither.  Feel- 
ing in  herself  no  difference  between  the  spirits  of 
twenty- three  and  seventy-three,  she  thinks  there  is 
no  impediment  to  doing  whatever  one  will,  but  the 
want  of  eyesight.  If  she  had  that,  I  am  persuaded 
no  consideration  would  prevent  her  making  me  a 
visit  at  Strawberry  Hill.  She  makes  songs,  sings 
them,  remembers  all  that  ever  were  made;  and, 
having  lived  from  the  most  agreeable  to  the  most 
reasoning  age,  has  all  that  was  amiable  in  the  last, 
all  that  is  sensible  in  this,  without  the  vanity  of  the 
former  or  the  pedant  impertinence  of  the  latter. 
I  have  heard  her  dispute  with  all  sorts  of  people  on 
all  sorts  of  subjects,  and  never  knew  her  in  the 
wrong.  She  humbles  the  learned,  sets  right  their 
disciples,  and  finds  conversation  for  everybody.  Af- 
fectionate as  Madame  de  SeVigne,  she  has  none  of 
her  prejudices,  but  a  more  universal  taste  ;  and  with 
the  most  delicate  frame,  her  spirits  hurry  her  through 
a  life  of  fatigue  that  would  kill  me  if  I  was  to  con- 
tinue here.  If  we  return  by  one  in  the  morning 
from  suppers  in  the  country,  she  proposes  driving 
to  the  Boulevard  or  to  the  Foire  St.  Ovide,  because 
it  is  too  early  to  go  to  bed  !  I  had  great  difficulty 
last  night  to  persuade  her,  though  she  was  not  well, 
not  to  sit  up  till  between  two  or  three  for  the  comet ; 
for  which  purpose  she  had  appointed  an  astronomer 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          101 

to  bring  his  telescopes  to  the  president  Renault's, 
as  she  thought  it  would  amuse  me.  In  short,  her 
goodness  to  me  is  so  excessive  that  I  feel  una- 
shamed at  producing  my  withered  person  in  a  round 
of  diversions  which  I  have  quitted  at  home.  I  tell 
a  story,  —  I  do  feel  ashamed,  and  sigh  to  be  in  my 
quiet  castle  and  cottage ;  but  it  costs  me  many  a 
pang  when  I  reflect  that  I  shall  probably  never  have 
resolution  enough  to  take  another  journey  to  see  this 
best  and  sincerest  of  friends,  who  loves  me  as  much 
as  my  mother  did  !  But  it  is  idle  to  look  forward. 
What  is  next  year  ?  —  a  bubble  that  may  burst  for  her 
or  me,  before  even  the  flying  year  can  hurry  to  the 
end  of  its  almanac  !  To  form  plans  and  projects  in 
such  a  precarious  life  as  this,  resembles  the  en- 
chanted castles  of  fairy  legends,  in  which  every  gate 
was  guarded  by  giants,  dragons,  etc.  Death  or  dis- 
eases bar  every  portal  through  which  we  mean  to 
pass;  and  though  we  may  escape  them  and  reach 
the  last  chamber,  what  a  wild  adventurer  is  he  that 
centres  his  hopes  at  the  end  of  such  an  avenue  !  I 
sit  contented  with  the  beggars  at  the  threshold,  and 
never  propose  going  on  but  as  the  gates  open  of 
themselves. 

The  weather  here  is  quite  sultry,  and  I  am  sorry 
to  say  one  can  send  to  the  corner  of  the  street  and 
buy  better  peaches  than  all  our  expense  in  kitchen- 
gardens  produces.  Lord  and  Lady  Dacre  are  a 
few  doors  from  me,  having  started  from  Tunbridge 
more  suddenly  than  I  did  from  Strawberry  Hill, 
but  on  a  more  unpleasant  motive.  My  lord  was 
persuaded  to  come  and  try  a  new  physician.  His 


102         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

faith  is  greater  than  mine  !  But,  poor  man,  can  one 
wonder  that  he  is  willing  to  believe  ?  My  lady  has 
stood  her  shock,  and  I  do  not  doubt  will  get 
over  it. 

Adieu,  my  t  'other  dear  old  friend  !  I  am  sorry  to 
say  I  see  you  almost  as  seldom  as  I  do  Madame  du 
Deffand.  However,  it  is  comfortable  to  reflect  that 
we  have  not  changed  to  each  other  for  some  five 
and  thirty  years,  and  neither  you  nor  I  haggle 
about  naming  so  ancient  a  term.  I  made  a  visit 
yesterday  to  the  Abbess  of  Panthemont,  General 
Oglethorpe's  niece,  and  no  chicken.  I  inquired 
after  her  mother,  Madame  de  M^zieres,  and  thought 
I  might,  to  a  spiritual  votary  to  immortality,  venture 
to  say  that  her  mother  must  be  very  old ;  she  in- 
terrupted me  tartly,  and  said  no,  her  mother  had 
been  married  extremely  young.  Do  but  think  of 
its  seeming  important  to  a  saint  to  sink  a  wrinkle 
of  her  own  through  an  iron  grate  !  Oh,  we  are 
ridiculous  animals ;  and  if  angels  have  any  fun  in 
them,  how  we  must  divert  them  ! 


XXVIII. 

LITERARY  AND   DRAMATIC  CRITICISM. 

To  George  Montagu,  Esq> 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Oct.  16,  1769. 
I   ARRIVED   at   my  own   Louvre  last  Wednesday 
night,  and   am   now   at  my  Versailles.     Your   last 
letter  reached  me  but  two  days  before  I  left  Paris, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         103 

for  I  have  been  an  age  at  Calais  and  upon  the  sea. 
I  could  execute  no  commission  for  you,  and  in 
truth  you  gave  me  no  explicit  one ;  but  I  have 
brought  you  a  bit  of  china,  and  beg  you  will  be 
content  with  a  little  present  instead  of  a  bargain. 
Said  china  is,  or  will  be  soon,  in  the  Custom  House  ; 
but  I  shall  have  it,  I  fear,  long  before  you  come  to 
London. 

I  am  sorry  those  boys  got  at  my  tragedy.1  I  beg 
you  would  keep  it  under  lock  and  key ;  it  is  not  at 
all  food  for  the  public,  —  at  least  not  till  I  am  "  food 
for  worms,  good  Percy."  Nay,  it  is  not  an  age  to 
encourage  anybody,  that  has  the  least  vanity,  to 
step  forth.  There  is  a  total  extinction  of  all  taste  ; 
our  authors  are  vulgar,  gross,  illiberal;  the  theatre 
swarms  with  wretched  translations  and  ballad  operas, 
and  we  have  nothing  new  but  improving  abuse.  I 
have  blushed  at  Paris  when  the  papers  came  over 
crammed  with  ribaldry  or  with  Garrick's  insuffer- 
able nonsense  about  Shakspeare.  As  that  man's 
writings  will  be  preserved  by  his  name,  who  will  be- 
lieve that  he  was  a  tolerable  actor?  Gibber  wrote 
as  bad  Odes,  but  then  Gibber  wrote  "  The  Careless 
Husband  "  and  his  own  Life,  which  both  deserve 
immortality.  Garrick's  prologues  and  epilogues 
are  as  bad  as  his  Pindarics  and  Pantomimes. 

I  feel  myself  here  like  a  swan  that,  after  living 
six  weeks  in  a  nasty  pool  upon  a  common,  is  got 
back  into  its  own  Thames.  I  do  nothing  but  plume 
and  clean  myself,  and  enjoy  the  verdure  and  silent 

1  A  party  of  schoolboys,  visiting  Montagu,  had  found 
Walpole's  "  The  Mysterious  Mother  "  and  read  it  aloud. 


104        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

waves.  Neatness  and  greenth  are  so  essential  in 
my  opinion  to  the  country,  that  in  France,  where  I 
see  nothing  but  chalk  and  dirty  peasants,  I  seem  in 
a  terrestrial  purgatory  that  is  neither  town  nor 
country.  The  face  of  England  is  so  beautiful  that 
I  do  not  believe  Tempe  or  Arcadia  were  half  so 
rural ;  for  both,  lying  in  hot  climates,  must  have 
wanted  the  turf  of  our  lawns.  It  is  unfortunate  to 
have  so  pastoral  a  taste,  when  I  want  a  cane  more 
than  a  crook.  We  are  absurd  creatures ;  at  twenty 
I  loved  nothing  but  London. 

Tell  me  when  you  shall  be  in  town.  I  think  of 
passing  most  of  my  time  here  till  after  Christmas. 
Adieu ! 


XXIX. 

GLOOMY  VIEW  OF  CONTEMPORARY  LITERATURE  AND 
POLITICS. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Tuesday,  Nov.  14,  1769. 
I  AM  here  quite  alone,  and  did  not  think  of 
going  to  town  till  Friday  for  the  Opera,  which  I 
have  not  yet  seen.  In  compliment  to  you  and  your 
countess,  I  will  make  an  effort,  and  be  there  on 
Thursday,  and  will  either  dine  with  you  at  your  own 
house  or  at  your  brother's,  which  you  choose. 
This  is  a  great  favor,  and  beyond  my  Lord  Temple's 
journey  to  dine  with  the  Lord  Mayor.1  I  am  so 

1  In  the  second  mayoralty  of  William  Beckford. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         105 

sick  of  the  follies  on  all  sides  that  I  am  happy  to 
be  at  quiet  here,  and  to  know  no  more  of  them 
than  what  I  am  forced  to  see  in  the  newspapers ; 
and  those  I  skip  over  as  fast  as  I  can. 

The  account  you  give  me  of  Lady was  just 

the  same  as  I  received  from  Paris.  I  will  show  you 
a  very  particular  letter  I  received  by  a  private  hand 
from  thence,  which  convinces  me  that  I  guessed 
right,  contrary  to  all  the  wise,  that  the  journey  to 
Fontainebleau  would  overset  Monsieur  de  Choiseul. 
I  think  he  holds  but  by  a  thread,  which  will  snap 
soon.1  I  am  laboring  hard  with  the  Duchess  of 
Choiseul  to  procure  the  Duke  of  Richmond  satis- 
faction in  the  favor  he  has  asked  about  his  duchy 
[of  Aubigne]  ;  but  he  shall  not  know  it  till  it  is 
completed,  if  I  can  be  so  lucky  as  to  succeed.  I 
think  I  shall  if  they  do  not  fall  immediately. 

You  perceive  how  barren  I  am,  and  why  I  have 
not  written  to  you.  I  pass  my  time  in  clipping  and 
pasting  prints,  and  do  not  think  I  have  read  forty 
pages  since  I  came  to  England.  I  bought  a  poem 
called  "Trinculo's  Trip  to  the  Jubilee,"  having  been 
struck  with  two  lines  in  an  extract  in  the  papers  : 

"  There  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
And  the  ear-piercing  wife." 

Alas  !  all  the  rest,  and  it  is  very  long,  is  a  heap  of 
unintelligible  nonsense  about  Shakspeare,  politics, 
and  the  Lord  knows  what.  I  am  grieved  that,  with 
our  admiration  of  Shakspeare,  we  can  do  nothing 

1  Alluding  to  some  information  he  had  received  from 
Madame  du  Deffand. 


106        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

but  write  worse  than  ever  he  did.  One  would 
think  the  age  studied  nothing  but  his  "Love's 
Labor's  Lost"  and  "Titus  Andronicus."  Politics 
and  abuse  have  totally  corrupted  our  taste.  No- 
body thinks  of  writing  a  line  that  is  to  last  beyond 
the  next  fortnight.  We  might  as  well  be  given  up 
to  controversial  divinity.  The  times  put  me  in 
mind  of  the  Constantinopolitan  empire,  where,  in 
an  age  of  learning,  the  subtlest  wits  of  Greece  con- 
trived to  leave  nothing  behind  them  but  the  mem- 
ory of  their  follies  and  acrimony.  Milton  did  not 
write  his  "  Paradise  Lost "  till  he  had  outlived  his 
politics.  With  all  his  parts  and  noble  sentiments 
of  liberty,  who  would  remember  him  for  his  bar- 
barous prose  ?  Nothing  is  more  true  than  that  ex- 
tremes meet.  The  licentiousness  of  the  Press  makes 
us  as  savage  as  our  Saxon  ancestors  who  could  only 
set  their  marks ;  and  an  outrageous  pursuit  of  in- 
dividual independence,  grounded  on  selfish  views, 
extinguishes  genius  as  much  as  despotism  does. 
The  public  good  of  our  country  is  never  thought  of 
by  men  that  hate  half  their  country.  Heroes  con- 
fine their  ambition  to  be  leaders  of  the  mob.  Ora- 
tors seek  applause  from  their  faction,  not  from 
posterity;  and  Ministers  forget  foreign  enemies  to 
defend  themselves  against  a  majority  in  Parliament. 
When  any  Caesar  has  conquered  Gaul  I  will  excuse 
him  for  aiming  at  the  perpetual  dictature.  If  he 
has  only  jockeyed  somebody  out  of  the  borough  of 
Veii  or  Falernum,  it  is  too  impudent  to  call  himself 
a  patriot  or  a  statesman.  Adieu  ! 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE.         107 
XXX. 

IMPROVEMENTS  AT   STRAWBERRY  HILL. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  June  8,  1771. 

I  DO  not  believe  that  Orestes  and  Pylades  were 
half  so  punctual  correspondents  for  thirty  years  to- 
gether. But  do  not  let  us  be  content  and  stop  here. 
Thirty  years  more  will  finish  the  century ;  I  have  no 
objection  to  living  so  long  :  I  hope  you  have  none. 

You  say  I  do  not  cite  the  dates  of  your  letters ; 
but  I  did  better,  I  executed  your  commission  the  in- 
stant I  received  it,  and  it  is  no  fault  of  mine  if  Ma- 
dame Santini  is  not  at  this  moment  fanning  herself 
with  one  of  the  fans.  I  should  be  inexcusable  if  I 
neglected  the  few  commissions  you  give  me,  when 
you  are  so  kindly  punctual  about  mine. 

Mr.  Chute,  who  dined  here  to-day,  told  me  he 
had  just  heard  that  Lord  Halifax  is  dead.  It  was 
hourly  expected  when  I  came  from  town  on  Thurs- 
day. Lord  Suffolk  was  most  talked  of  for  his  suc- 
cessor; and  then  the  Privy  Seal  will  be  contested 
by  two  ex- Ministers,  the  Duke  of  Grafton  and  Lord 
Weymouth. 

I  find  you  have  been  a  great  advocate  for  Le 
Fevre's  medicine  for  the  gout.  He  is  already  quite 
exploded  here ;  and  about  Liege,  where  he  lives, 
they  abhor  him.  He  performs  none  of  his  promises 
but  in  producing  an  immediate  fit,  which  can  be 
done  without  a  medicine.  Mr.  Chute  and  I  are 


108        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

strong  bootikinists.  He,  indeed,  is  a  marvellous 
proof  of  their  efficacy.  He  (so  many  years  devoured 
by  gout)  has  not  had  a  fit  in  his  feet  these  four 
years ;  and  when  it  comes  in  his  hands,  though  it 
lasts  very  long,  he  never  has  three  days  of  sharp 
pain. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  Russian  fleet  will  pass 
the  Dardanelles,  but  their  army  must  not  pass  the 
Danube.  It  is  certain  that  Prince  Lobkowitz  was 
sent  to  Petersburg  to  make  this  declaration  in  the 
names  of  the  Empress-Queen  and  Emperor ;  and 
there  is  such  a  dearth  of  roubles  in  the  other  Em- 
press' treasury  that  she  must  stoop  to  the  prohibi- 
tion. The  peace  itself  would  be  made,  yet  as  there 
is  provision  of  money  and  troops  made  at  Constan- 
tinople, the  Sultan  dares  not  but  try  another  cam- 
paign, for  fear  of  an  insurrection.  I  like  to  see 
these  haughty  sovereigns  obliged  to  draw  in  their 
talons,  or  put  them  forth,  whether  they  will  or  not. 

Some  of  their  representatives  are  to  dine  here  to- 
morrow. Indeed,  you  ought  to  come  too ;  there 
will  be  a  little  corps  diplomatique,  —  the  French,  Span- 
ish, and  Austrian  Ministers.  I  am  sorry  this  card 
cannot  sail  till  Tuesday,  when  it  will  be  too  late. 
Seriously,  how  happy  it  would  make  me  to  see  you 
here,  salva  your  dignitate.  Strawberry  is  in  the  most 
perfect  beauty,  the  verdure  exquisite,  and  the  shades 
venerably  extended.  I  have  made  a  Gothic  gateway 
to  the  garden,  the  piers  of  which  are  of  artificial 
stone  and  very  respectable.  The  Round  Tower  is 
finished,  and  magnificent,  and  the  State  Bedchamber 
proceeds  fast ;  for  you  must  know  the  little  villa  is 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         109 

grown  into  a  superb  castle.  We  have  dropped  all 
humility  in  our  style  :  yet,  fond  as  I  am  of  this 
place,  I  am  going  to  leave  it  for  some  weeks,  —  in 
short,  on  another  journey  to  Paris.  Nothing,  I  think, 
but  my  dear  old  woman  [Madame  du  Deffand]  could 
draw  me  so  far,  and  nothing  but  her  shall  I  see. 
The  time  of  year  disculpates  me  from  the  scandalous 
surmise  of  going  to  divert  myself.  If  the  disturb- 
ances there  should  happen  to  amuse  me,  why  that 
is  excusable  in  an  ancient  politician ;  and  no  phi- 
losopher has  forbidden  our  being  entertained  with 
public  confusion.  I  shall,  in  truth,  only  look  on 
with  the  same  indifference  with  which  I  see  our  own 
squabbles.  The  latter  are  drawn  to  the  dregs.  I 
shall  set  out  on  the  yth  of  July,  and  be  here  again 
by  the  end  of  August.  If  you  write  to  me  in  the 
interval,  direct  to  London ;  for  you  know  we  always 
have  found  more  difficulty  in  sending  our  letters  by 
the  straight  road  than  by  that  round-about.  I  shall 
probably  write  again  before  I  go,  though  this  is  not 
a  time  of  year  when  I  can  have  much  to  tell  you, 
and  at  present  less  than  ever. 

Good  night !  I  reserve  some  paper,  in  case  I 
should  learn  any  European  secrets  from  my  guests 
to-morrow. 

SUNDAY  NIGHT. 

My  party  has  succeeded  to  admiration,  and  Gothic 
architecture  has  received  great  applause.  I  will  not 
swear  that  it  has  been  really  admired.  I  found  by 
Monsieur  de  Guisnes  that,  though  he  had  heard 


HO        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

much  of  the  house,  it  was  in  no  favorable  light.  He 
had  been  told  it  was  only  built  of  lath  and  plaster, 
and  that  there  were  not  two  rooms  together  on  a 
level.  When  I  once  asked  Madame  du  Deffand  what 
her  countrymen  said  of  it,  she  owned  they  were  not 
struck  with  it,  but  looked  upon  it  as  natural  enough 
in  a  country  which  had  not  yet  arrived  at  true 
taste.  In  short,  I  believe  they  think  all  the  houses 
they  see  are  Gothic,  because  they  are  not  like  that 
single  pattern  that  reigns  in  every  hotel  in  Paris, 
and  which  made  me  say  there,  that  I  never  knew 
whether  I  was  in  the  house  that  I  was  in,  or  in  the 
house  I  came  out  of.  Two  or  three  rooms  in  a  row, 
a  naked  salle-a-manger,  a  white-and-gold  cabinet, 
with  four  looking-glasses,  a  lustre,  a  scrap  of  hanging 
over  against  the  windows,  and  two  rows  of  chairs, 
with  no  variety  in  the  apartments,  but  from  bigger 
to  less,  and  more  or  less  gilt,  and  a  bed-chamber 
with  a  blue  or  red  damask  bed :  this  is  that  effort 
of  taste  to  which  they  think  we  have  not  attained,  — 
we  who  have  as  pure  architecture  and  as  classic  taste 
as  there  was  in  Adrian's  or  Pliny's  villas.  Monsieur 
de  Guisnes  is  very  civil,  and  affects  to  like  even  our 
gardens ;  though  I  can  but  doubt  whether  they  do 
not  use  more  of  Nature's  beauties  than  a  Frenchman 
can  be  brought  to  feel. 

Lord  Halifax  died  yesterday.  The  Bishop  of 
Osnaburg  is  to  have  that  ribbon  to  which  the  Earl 
had  never  been  installed.  As  there  is  going  to  be 
an  installation  at  the  expense  of  the  Crown,  the 
Bishop's  will  be  lumped  with  it,  and  save  such  an- 
other cost.  Lord  Hyde,  they  say,  is  to  be  Chan- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          Ill 

cellor  of  the  Duchy,  in  the  room  of  Lord  Strange, 
who  died  suddenly  last  week.  I  don't  know  how 
the  greater  places  are  to  go.  If  I  hear  to-morrow, 
when  I  shall  pass  through  London  in  my  way  to 
Lord  Ossory's,  I  will  tell  you. 

MONDAY  NIGHT. 

It  rains  great  places  and  preferments.  The  Bishop 
of  Durham  died  last  night ;  but  what  is  that  to  you 
or  me?  You  no  more  desire  to  be  a  right-reverend 
father  in  God  than  I  to  be  Secretary  of  State.  Yet 
how  many  are  hankering  after  these  things,  without 
reflecting  that  they  are  more  likely  to  follow  in  death 
than  in  succession  !  It  is  excusable  in  children  to 
cry  for  rattles,  for  they  don't  know  how  soon  they 
are  to  part  with  them.  I  don't  mean  by  this  to  give 
myself  any  preference  in  wisdom ;  I  have  a  house 
full  of  playthings,  and  am  as  fond  of  them  as  any 
bishop  is  of  his  bishopric. 


XXXI. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  POET  GRAY. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Sept.  25,  1771. 
I  HAVE  received  both  your  letters,  sir,  by  Mr. 
Stonhewer  and  by  the  post  from  York.  I  direct 
this  to  Aston  rather  than  to  York,  for  fear  of  any 
miscarriage,  and  will  remember  to  insert,  near 
Sheffield. 


112        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALFOLE. 

I  not  only  agree  with  your  sentiments,  but  am 
flattered  that  they  countenance  my  own  practice. 
In  some  cases  I  have  sold  my  works,  and  some- 
times have  made  the  impressions  at  my  own  press 
pay  themselves,  as  I  am  not  rich  enough  to  treat 
the  public  with  all  I  print  there  ;  nor  do  I  know 
why  I  should.  Some  editions  have  been  given  to 
charities,  to  the  poor  of  Twickenham,  etc.  Mr. 
Spence's  life  of  Magliabecchi  was  bestowed  on  the 
reading  tailor.  I  am  neither  ashamed  of  being  an 
author  nor  a  bookseller.  My  mother's  father  was  a 
timber-merchant.  I  have  many  reasons  for  thinking 
myself  a  worse  man,  and  none  for  thinking  myself 
better ;  consequently  I  shall  never  blush  at  doing 
anything  he  did.  I  print  much  better  than  I  write, 
and  love  my  trade,  and  hope  I  am  not  one  of  those 
most  undeserving  of  all  objects,  printers  and  book- 
sellers, whom  I  confess  you  lash  with  justice.  In 
short,  sir,  I  have  no  notion  of  poor  Mr.  Gray's 
delicacy.  I  would  not  sell  my  talents  as  orators 
and  senators  do,  but  I  would  keep  a  shop,  and  sell 
any  of  my  own  works  that  would  gain  me  a  live- 
lihood, whether  books  or  shoes,  rather  than  be 
tempted  to  sell  myself.  'T  is  an  honest  vocation  to 
be  a  scavenger,  but  I  would  not  be  Solicitor-General. 
Whatever  method  you  fix  upon  for  the  publication 
of  Mr.  Gray's  works,  I  dare  answer  I  shall  approve, 
and  will,  therefore,  say  no  more  on  it  till  we  meet. 
I  will  beg  you,  sir,  when  you  come  to  town  to  bring 
me  what  papers  or  letters  he  had  preserved  of 
mine ;  for  the  answer  to  Dr.  Milles,  it  is  not  worth 
asking  you  to  accept  or  to  take  the  trouble  of  bring- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         113 

ing  me,  and  therefore  you  may  fling  it  aside  where 
you  please. 

The  Epitaph1  is  very  unworthy  of  the  subject.  I 
had  rather  anybody  should  correct  my  works  than 
take  the  pains  myself.  I  thank  you  very  sincerely 
for  criticising  it,  but  indeed  I  believe  you  would 
with  much  less  trouble  write  a  new  one  than  mend 
that.  I  abandon  it  cheerfully  to  the  fire,  for  surely 
bad  verses  on  a  great  poet  are  the  worst  of  pane- 
gyrics. The  sensation  of  the  moment  dictated  the 
epitaph ;  but  though  I  was  concerned,  I  was  not  in- 
spired. Your  corrections  of  my  play 2  I  remember 
with  the  greatest  gratitude,  because  I  confess  I  liked 
it  enough  to  wish  it  corrected,  and  for  that  friendly 
act,  sir,  I  am  obliged  to  you.  For  writing,  I  am 
quitting  all  thoughts  of  it ;  and  for  several  reasons, 
—  the  best  is  because  it  is  time  to  remember  that 
I  must  quit  the  world.  Mr.  Gray  was  but  a  year 
older,  and  he  had  much  more  the  appearance  of  a 
man  to  whom  several  years  were  promised.  A  con- 
temporary's death  is  the  Ucalegon  of  all  sermons. 
In  the  next  place  his  death  has  taught  me  another 
truth.  Authors  are  said  to  labor  for  posterity ;  for 
my  part  I  find  I  did  not  write  even  for  the  rising 
generation.  Experience  tells  me  it  was  all  for 
those  of  my  own,  or  near  my  own,  time.  The 
friends  I  have  lost  were,  I  find,  more  than  half  the 
public  to  me.  It  is  as  difficult  to  write  for  young 

1  Walpole  had  written  an  Epitaph  on  Gray  which  Mason 
criticised  for  not  sufficiently  praising   Gray's   character  as 
well  as  his  poetical  talents. 

2  The  Mysterious  Mother. 


114        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

people  as  to  talk  to  them  ;  I  never,  I  perceive, 
meant  anything  about  them  in  what  I  have  written, 
and  cannot  commence  an  acquaintance  with  them 
in  print. 

Mr.  Gray  was  far  from  an  agreeable  confidant  to 
self-love,  yet  I  had  always  more  satisfaction  in 
communicating  anything  to  him,  though  sure  to  be 
mortified,  than  in  being  flattered  by  people  whose 
judgment  I  do  not  respect.  We  had  besides 
known  each  other's  ideas  from  almost  infancy,  and 
I  was  certain  he  would  understand  precisely  what- 
ever I  said,  whether  it  was  well  or  ill  expressed. 
This  is  a  kind  of  feeling  that  every  hour  of  age  in- 
creases. Mr.  Gray's  death,  I  am  persuaded,  sir, 
has  already  given  you  this  sensation,  and  I  make  no 
excuse  for  talking  seemingly  so  much  of  myself ;  but 
though  I  am  the  instance  of  these  reflections,  they 
are  only  part  of  the  conversation  which  that  sad 
event  occasions,  and  which  I  trust  we  shall  renew. 
I  shall  sincerely  be  a  little  consoled  if  our  common 
regret  draws  us  nearer  together;  you  will  find  all 
possible  esteem  on  my  side :  as  there  has  been 
much  similarity  in  some  of  our  pursuits,  it  may 
make  some  amends  for  other  defects.  I  have  done 
with  the  business,  the  politics,  the  pleasures  of  the 
world,  without  turning  hermit  or  morose.  My 
object  is  to  pass  the  remainder  of  my  life  tranquilly 
and  agreeably,  with  all  the  amusements  that  will 
gild  the  evening  and  are  not  subject  to  disappoint- 
ment, with  cheerfulness,  for  I  have  very  good 
spirits,  and  with  as  much  of  the  company  as  I  can 
obtain  of  the  few  persons  I  value  and  like.  If  you 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        115 

have  charity  enough  or  inclination  to  contribute  to 
such  a  system,  you  will  add  much  to  the  happiness 
of  it,  and  if  you  have  not,  you  will  still  allow  me  to 
say  I  shall  be  ever,  with  great  regard,  sir,  your  obe- 
dient, humble  servant. 


XXXII. 

DISASTER  AT  STRAWBERRY  HILL. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory.1 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Jan.  5,  1772. 
NOTHING  but  disasters,  madam,  since  my  last. 
Poor  Mr.  Fitzherbert  hanged  himself  on  Wednes- 
day. He  went  to  see  the  convicts  executed  that 
morning,  and  from  thence  in  his  boots  to  his  son, 
having  sent  his  groom  out  of  the  way.  At  three 
his  son  said,  "  Sir,  you  are  to  dine  at  Mr.  Buller's  ;  it 
is  time  for  you  to  go  home  and  dress."  He  went  to 
his  own  stable  and  hanged  himself  with  a  bridle. 
They  say  his  circumstances  were  in  great  disorder. 
There  have  been  deep  doings  at  Almack's,  but  no- 
body has  retired  into  a  stable.  This  paragraph, 
possibly,  may  be  as  old  when  you  receive  it  as  jf  it 
was  in  the  magazine,  for  my  letter  will  not  set  out 
till  Thursday,  as  I  cannot  yet  tell  you  the  whole  of 
a  tragedy  that  happened  to  myself  this  very  morn- 
ing —  Don't  be  frightened,  madam,  I  am  not  wind- 

1  The  Duchess  of  Grafton,  divorced  from  her  first  hus- 
band, had  become  Lady  Ossory  in  1769. 


ll  6        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

bound  on  the  banks  of  Styx,  and  waiting  to  send 
back  my  letter  by  Charon. 

I  was  waked  very  early  this  morning,  by  half  an 
hour  after  nine,  —  I  mean  this  for  flattery,  for  Mr. 
Crauford  says  your  ladyship  does  not  rise  till  one. 
By  the  way,  I  was  in  the  middle  of  a  charming  dream. 
I  thought  I  was  in  the  King's  Library  in  Paris,  and 
in  a  gallery  full  of  books  of  prints,  containing  nothing 
but  fttes  and  decorations  of  scenery.  I  took  down 
a  long  roll,  on  which  was  painted  on  vellum  all  the 
ceremonies  of  the  present  reign;  there  was  the 
young  King  walking  to  his  coronation :  the  Regent 
before,  who  I  thought  was  alive.  I  said  to  him  : 
"  Your  royal  Highness  has  a  great  air."  He  seemed 
extremely  flattered,  when  the  house  shook  as  if  the 
devil  were  come  for  him.  I  had  scarce  recovered 
my  vexation  at  being  so  disturbed  when  the  door 
of  my  room  shook  so  violently  that  I  thought  some- 
body was  breaking  it  open,  though  I  knew  it  was  not 
locked.  It  was  broad  daylight,  but  I  did  not  know 
that  housebreaking  might  not  be  still  improving.  I 
cried  out,  "Who  is  there?"  Nobody  answered. 
In  less  than  another  minute  the  door  rattled  and 
shook  still  more  robberaceously.  I  called  again ;  no 
reply.  I  rang.  The  housemaid  ran  in  as  pale  as 
white  ashes,  if  you  ever  saw  such,  and  cried,  "  Lud  ! 
sir,  I  am  frightened  out  of  my  wits ;  there  has  been 
an  earthquake  !  "  Oh  !  I  believed  her  immediately. 
Philip  [his  valet]  came  in,  and  being  a  Swiss  phi- 
losopher, insisted  it  was  only  the  wind.  I  sent  him 
down  to  collect  opinions  in  the  street.  He  re- 
turned, and  owned  everybody  in  this  and  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         117 

neighboring  streets  were  persuaded  their  houses  had 
been  breaking  open,  or  had  run  out  of  them,  think- 
ing there  was  an  earthquake.  Alas  !  it  was  much 
worse ;  for  you  know,  madam,  our  earthquakes  are 
as  harmless  as  a  new-born  child.  At  one  came  in 
a  courier  from  Margaret  [his  housekeeper]  to  tell 
me  that  five  powder-mills  had  been  blown  up  at 
Hounslow  at  half  an  hour  after  nine  this  morning, 
had  almost  shook  Mrs.  Clive,  and  had  broken  parts 
or  all  of  eight  of  my  painted  windows,  besides  other 
damage.  This  is  a  cruel  misfortune  ;  I  don't  know 
how  I  shall  repair  it  !  I  shall  go  down  to-morrow, 
and  on  Thursday  will  finish  my  report. 

Wednesday,  %th. 

Well,  madam,  I  am  returned  from  my  poor 
shattered  castle ;  and  never  did  it  look  so  Gothic  in 
its  born  days  !  You  would  swear  it  had  been  be- 
sieged by  the  Presbyterians  in  the  Civil  Wars,  and 
that,  finding  it  impregnable,  they  had  vented  their 
holy  malice  on  the  painted  glass.  As  this  gun- 
powder-army passed  on,  it  demolished  Mr.  Hindley's 
fine  bow-window  of  ancient  Scripture  histories; 
and  only  because  your  ladyship  is  my  ally,  broke 
the  large  window  over  your  door  and  wrenched  off 
a  lock  in  your  kitchen.  Margaret  sits  by  the 
waters  of  Babylon  and  weeps  over  Jerusalem.  I 
shall  pity  those  she  shows  the  house  to  next  sum- 
mer, for  her  story  is  as  long  and  deplorable  as  a 
chapter  of  casualties  in  "  Baker's  Chronicle ;  "  yet 
she  was  not  taken  quite  unprepared,  for  one  of  the 
bantam  hens  crowed  on  Sunday  morning,  and  the 


Ii8        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

chandler's  wife  told  her  three  weeks  ago,  when  the 
barn  was  blown  down,  that  ill-luck  never  comes 
single.  She  is,  however,  very  thankful  that  the 
China  Room  has  escaped,  and  says  God  has  always 
been  the  best  creature  in  the  world  to  her.  I  dare 
not  tell  her  how  many  churches  I  propose  to  rob  to 
repair  my  losses. 


XXXIII. 

TRIBUTE  TO  GRAY'S    GENIUS  —DEPRECIATION   OF 
GARRICK. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Cole. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Jan.  28,  1772. 

IT  is  long,  indeed,  dear  sir,  since  we  corres- 
ponded. I  should  not  have  been  silent  if  I  had 
anything  worth  telling  you  in  your  way ;  but  I  grow 
such  an  antiquity  myself  that  I  think  I  am  less  fond 
of  what  remains  of  our  predecessors. 

I  thank  you  for  Bannerman's1  proposal, — I  mean, 
for  taking  the  trouble  to  send  it ;  for  I  am  not  at  all 
disposed  to  subscribe.  I  thank  you  more  for  the 
note  on  King  Edward, —  I  mean,  too,  for  your  friend- 
ship in  thinking  of  me.  Of  Dean  Milles  I  cannot 
trouble  myself  to  think  any  more.  His  piece  is  at 
Strawberry :  perhaps  I  may  look  at  it  for  the  sake 
of  your  note.  The  bad  weather  keeps  me  in  town 
and  a  good  deal  at  home,  which  I  find  very  com- 
1  The  engraver  of  some  of  Walpole's  works. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         119 

fortable,  literally  practising  what  so  many  persons 
pretend  they  intend,  —  being  quiet  and  enjoying  my 
fireside  in  my  elderly  days. 

Mr.  Mason  has  shown  me  the  relics  of  poor  Mr. 
Gray.  I  am  sadly  disappointed  at  finding  them  so 
very  inconsiderable.  He  always  persisted,  when  I 
inquired  about  his  writings,  that  he  had  nothing  by 
him.  I  own  I  doubted.  I  am  grieved  he  was  so 
very  near  exact,  —  I  speak  of  my  own  satisfaction  ; 
as  to  his  genius,  what  he  published  during  his  life 
will  establish  his  fame  as  long  as  our  language  lasts 
and  there  is  a  man  of  genius  left.  There  is  a  silly 
fellow,  I  don't  know  who,  that  has  published  a  vol- 
ume of  Letters  on  the  English  Nation,  with  char- 
acters of  our  modern  authors.  He  has  talked  such 
nonsense  on  Mr.  Gray  that  I  have  no  patience  with 
the  compliments  he  has  paid  me.  He  must  have 
an  excellent  taste  !  and  gives  me  a  woful  opinion  of 
my  own  trifles,  when  he  likes  them,  and  cannot  see 
the  beauties  of  a  poet  that  ought  to  be  ranked  in 
the  first  line. 

I  am  more  humbled  by  any  applause  in  the 
present  age  than  by  hosts  of  such  critics  as  Dean 
Milles.  Is  not  Garrick  reckoned  a  tolerable  actor? 
His  "  Cymon,"  his  prologues  and  epilogues,  and  forty 
such  pieces  of  trash,  are  below  mediocrity,  and  yet 
delight  the  mob  in  the  boxes  as  well  as  in  the  foot- 
man's gallery.  I  do  not  mention  the  things  written 
in  his  praise,  because  he  writes  most  of  them  him- 
self.1 But  you  know  any  one  popular  merit  can 

1  Mrs.  Garrick  is  reported  to  have  said  to  a  friend  :  "  Why 
do  you  not  write  your  own  criticisms  ?  Davy  always  does." 


120        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

confer  all  merit.  Two  women  talking  of  Wilkes, 
one  said  he  squinted  ;  t  'other  replied,  "  Squints  ! 
—  well,  if  he  does,  it  is  not  more  than  a  man  should 
squint."  For  my  part,  I  can  see  how  extremely 
well  Garrick  acts,  without  thinking  him  six  feet  high. 
It  is  said  Shakspeare  was  a  bad  actor  :  why  do  not 
his  divine  plays  make  our  wise  judges  conclude  that 
he  was  a  good  one  ?  They  have  not  a  proof  of  the 
contrary,  as  they  have  hi  Garrick's  works.  But  what 
is  it  to  you  or  me  what  he  is?  We  may  see  him 
act  with  pleasure,  and  nothing  obliges  us  to  read  his 
writings.1 


xxxrv. 

SELECTION   OF    GRAY'S    LETTERS    FOR   PUBLICATION. 

To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  May  9,  1772. 

I  HAVE  given  up  to  Mr.  Stonhewer,  as  you  desired, 
dear  sir,  Mr.  Gray's  volume  of  MSS.,  but  shall  be 
glad  hereafter,  if  you  do  not  dislike  it,  to  print  some 
of  the  most  curious.  He  himself  was  to  lend  me 
the  speech  and  letters  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  At  a 
leisure  hour,  would  not  it  be  amusing  to  you  to  draw 
up  a  little  account  of  that  Poet? 

Dr.    Brown2  has  sent  me  a  very  civil  letter  of 

1  Walpole  shows  a  singular  lack  of  appreciation  of  Gar- 
rick,  both  as  writer  and  actor,   on  the  many  occasions  in 
which  his  name  is  mentioned  throughout  his  correspondence. 

2  Master  of  Pembroke  College. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         121 

thanks  for  Gray's  portrait.  He  speaks  too  of  the 
book  I  intended  for  their  college,  and  that  he  was 
to  receive  from  you.  I  forget  whether  I  troubled 
you  with  it  or  not. 

I  have  selected  for  your  use  such  of  Gray's  letters 
as  will  be  intelligible  without  many  notes ;  but 
though  all  his  early  letters  have  both  wit  and  humor, 
they  are  so  local,  or  so  confined  to  private  persons, 
and  stories,  that  it  would  be  difficult,  even  by  the 
help  of  a  comment,  to  make  them  interesting  to  the 
public.  Some  of  the  incidents  alluded  to  have 
slipped  out  of  my  own  memory ;  still,  there  are 
about  twenty  of  his  juvenile  letters  that  I  think  will 
please.  I  will  bring  them  with  me  when  I  make 
you  a  visit  in  August.  I  have  a  great  many  more, 
to  the  very  end  of  his  life ;  but  they  are  grave,  and 
chiefly  relative  to  questions  in  antiquity  on  which  I 
consulted  him,  or  begged  him  to  consult  the  libraries 
at  Cambridge.  There  are  some  criticisms  on  modern 
books  and  authors,  either  his  own  opinions  or  in 
answer  to  mine.  These  are  certainly  not  proper  for 
present  publication ;  but  I  shall  leave  these  and  the 
rest  behind  me,  and  none  of  them  will  disgrace  him, 
—  which  ought  to  be  our  care,  since  it  was  so  very 
much  his  own. 

Mr.  Palgrave  is  in  town,  and  has  promised  to  pass 
a  day  with  me  here,  where  I  am  continuing  my  im- 
mortal labors  with  those  durable  materials,  painted 
glass  and  carved  wood  and  stone.  The  foundations 
of  the  chapel  in  the  garden  are  to  be  dug  on 
Monday.  The  state-bedchamber  advances  rapidly, 
and  will,  I  hope,  be  finished  before  my  journey  to 


122        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Yorkshire.  In  short,  this  old,  old,  very  old  castle,  as 
his  prints  called  Old  Parr,  is  so  near  being  perfect 
that  it  will  certainly  be  ready,  by  the  time  I  die,  to 
be  improved  with  Indian  paper,  or  to  have  the 
windows  cut  down  to  the  ground  by  some  travelled 
lady. 

The  newspapers  tell  me  that  Mr.  Chambers,  the 
architect,  who  has  Sir-Williamised  himself  by  the 
desire,  as  he  says,  of  the  knights  of  the  Polar  Star, 
his  brethren,  who  were  angry  at  his  not  assuming 
his  proper  title,  is  going  to  publish  a  treatise  on 
Ornamental  Gardening ;  that  is,  I  suppose,  consid- 
ering a  garden  as  a  subject  to  be  built  upon.  In 
that  light  it  will  not  interfere  with  your  verses  or  my 
prose  ; x  and  we  may  both  use  the  happiest  expression 
in  the  world  and 

"  Coldly  declare  him  free." 

In  truth  our  climate  is  so  bad  that  instead  of 
filling  our  gardens  with  buildings,  we  ought  rather  to 
fill  our  buildings  with  gardens,  as  the  only  way  of 
enjoying  the  latter. 

"  The  dreaded  East  is  all  the  wind  that  blows  ;  " 
and  yet  I  am  afraid  to  rail  at  it,  lest  the  rain 
should  make  advantage  of  my  plaints,  and  come  and 
drown  us  till  the  end  of  July.  I  was  lamenting  the 
weather  to  M.  de  Guisnes,  the  French  ambassador. 
He  said,  "  In  England  you  talk  of  nothing  but  the 
bad  weather;  I  wonder  you  are  not  used  to  it." 
Yet  one  must  have  seen  such  a  thing  as  spring,  or 

1  That  is,  Mason's  English  Garden,  and  Walpole's  Essay 
on  Modern  Gardening. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         123 

one  could  not  have  invented  the  idea.  I  can  swear 
to  have  formerly  heard  nightingales  as  I  have  been 
sitting  in  this  very  bow-window.  If  I  was  thirty 
years  younger,  I  might  fancy  they  are  gone  because 
Phoebe  is  gone ;  but  I  have  certainly  heard  them 
long  since  my  ballad-making  days.  I  hope  your 
garden,  which  is  not  exposed  to  wayward  seasons, 
but 

"  Will  always  flourish  in  immortal  youth," 

advances  a  great  pace.  Consider,  you  are  to  record 
what  it  was  when  fashion  and  great  lords  shall  have 
brought  back  square  enclosures,  walls,  terraces,  and 
labyrinths,  and  shall  be  told  by  the  Le  Nautre  of  the 
day  that  their  lordships  have  invented  a  new  taste, 
and  will  never  know  to  the  contrary ;  for  though 
beautiful  poems  preserve  themselves,  it  is  not  by 
being  read  and  known.  Works  of  genius  are  like  the 
Hermetic  philosophers,  —  none  but  adepts  are  ac- 
quainted with  their  existence  ;  yet  certainly  nothing 
is  ever  lost,  —  as  you  may  find  in  Mr.  Warton's  new 
Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Pope,  which  has  resuscitated 
more  nothings  and  more  nobodies  than  Birch's 
Life  of  Tillotson  or  Lowth's  William  of  Wykeham. 

There  has  been  a  Masquerade  at  the  Pantheon, 
which  was  so  glorious  a  vision  that  I  thought  I  was 
in  the  old  Pantheon,  or  in  the  temples  of  Delphi 
or  Ephesus  amidst  a  crowd  of  various  nations,  and 
that  formerly 

"  Pantho'ides  Euphorbus  eram," 

and  did  but  recollect  what  I  had  seen.  All  the 
friezes  and  niches  were  edged  with  alternate  lamps 


124        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

of  green  and  purple  glass  that  shed  a  most  heathen 
light,  and  the  dome  was  illuminated  by  a  heaven  of 
oiled  paper  well  painted  with  gods  and  goddesses. 
Mr.  Wyat,  the  architect,  has  so  much  taste  that  I 
think  he  must  be  descended  from  Sir  Thomas. 
Even  Henry  VIII.  had  so  much  taste  that  were  he 
alive  he  would  visit  the  Pantheon.  Adieu,  dear 
sir  !  Yours  most  sincerely. 


XXXV. 

RUIN  AND    DESOLATION    OF   THE    FAMILY  PROPERTY. 

To  the  Hon   H.  S.  Conway. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Aug.  30,  1773. 
I  RETURNED  last  night  from  Houghton,1  where 
multiplicity  of  business  detained  me  four  days  longer 
than  I  intended,  and  where  I  found  a  scene  infinitely 
more  mortifying  than  I  expected  ;  though  I  certainly 
did  not  go  with  a  prospect  of  finding  a  land  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey.  Except  the  pictures,  which 
are  in  the  finest  preservation,  and  the  woods,  which 
are  become  forests,  all  the  rest  is  ruin,  desolation, 
confusion,  disorder,  debts,  mortgages,  sales,  pillage, 
villany,  waste,  folly,  and  madness.  I  do  not  believe 
that  five  thousand  pounds  would  put  the  house  and 
buildings  into  good  repair.  The  nettles  and  bram- 
bles in  the  park  are  up  to  your  shoulders ;  horses 
have  been  turned  into  the  garden,  and  banditti 

1  Having  gone  to  look  after  affairs   during  one  of  his 
nephew's  fits  of  insanity. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         125 

lodged  in  every  cottage.  The  perpetuity  of  livings 
that  come  up  to  the  park-pales  have  been  sold, 
and  every  farm  let  for  half  its  value.  In  short,  you 
know  how  much  family  pride  I  have,  and  conse- 
quently may  judge  how  much  I  have  been  mortified. 
Nor  do  I  tell  you  half,  or  near  the  worst  circum- 
stances. I  have  just  stopped  the  torrent,  and  that 
is  all.  I  am  very  uncertain  whether  I  must  not  fling 
up  the  trust.  And  some  of  the  difficulties  in  my 
way  seem  insurmountable,  and  too  dangerous  not 
to  alarm  even  my  zeal ;  since  I  must  not  ruin  my- 
self, and  hurt  those  for  whom  I  must  feel,  too,  only 
to  restore  a  family  that  will  end  with  myself,  and  to 
retrieve  an  estate  from  which  I  am  not  likely  ever 
to  receive  the  least  advantage. 

If  you  will  settle  with  the  Churchills  your  journey 
to  Chalfont,  and  will  let  me  know  the  day,  I  will 
endeavor  to  meet  you  there ;  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
till  next  week.  I  am  overwhelmed  with  business  — 
but,  indeed,  I  know  not  when  I  shall  be  otherwise. 
I  wish  you  joy  of  this  endless  summer. 


XXXVI. 

ON  A  PERFORMANCE  OF  MASON'S   "  ELFRIDA." 
To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Nov.  19,  1773. 
I  KNOW  nothing  of  you ;  you  have  left  me  off.     I 
know  you  are  alive,  for  Lord  Stafford  has  seen  you 
twice.     Yet  it  is  plain  I  am  not  out  of  charity  with 


126        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

you,  for  I  have  been  to  see  "  Elfrida "  [at  Covent 
Garden] ;  think  it  was  out  of  revenge,  though  it 
is  wretchedly  acted,  and  worse  set  to  music.  The 
virgins  were  so  inarticulate  that  I  should  have  un- 
derstood them  as  well  if  they  had  sung  choruses 
of  Sophocles.  Orgar  had  a  broad  Irish  accent ;  I 
thought  the  First  Virgin,  who  is  a  lusty  virago,  called 
Miss  Miller,  would  have  knocked  him  down,  and  I 
hoped  she  would.  Edgar  stared  at  his  own  crown, 
and  seemed  to  fear  it  would  tumble  off.  Smith  did 
not  play  Athelwold  ill.  Mrs.  Hartley  is  made  for  the 
part,  if  beauty  and  figure  could  suffice  for  what  you 
write ;  but  she  has  no  one  symptom  of  genius.  Still 
it  was  very  affecting,  and  does  admirably  for  the 
stage  under  all  these  disadvantages.  The  tears 
came  into  my  eyes,  and  streamed  down  the  Duchess 
of  Richmond's  lovely  cheeks. 

Mr.  Garrick  has  been  wondrously  jealous  of  the 
King's  going  twice  together  to  Covent  Garden ;  and 
to  lure  him  back,  has  crammed  the  town's  maw  with 
shows  of  the  Portsmouth  Review,  and  interlarded 
every  play  with  the  most  fulsome  loyalties.  He  has 
new-written  the  "  Fair  Quaker  of  Deal,"  and  made 
it  ten  times  worse  than  it  was  originally ;  and  all  to 
the  tune  of  Portsmouth  and  George  forever  !  not  to 
mention  a  preface  in  which  the  Earl  of  Sandwich 
by  name  is  preferred  to  Drake,  Blake,  and  all  the 
admirals  that  ever  existed. 

Dr.  Hawkesworth  is  dead,  —  out  of  luck  not  to 
have  died  a  twelvemonth  ago. 

Lady  Holdernesse  has  narrowly  escaped  with  her 
life ;  she  fell  on  the  top  of  the  stairs  at  Si  on  against 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         127 

the  edge  of  a  door,  which  cut  such  a  gash  on  her 
temple  that  they  were  forced  to  sew  it  up,  —  it  was 
within  half  an  inch  of  her  eye,  which  is  black  all 
round,  but  not  hurt ;  and  her  knee  was  much  bruised. 
This  good  town  affords  no  other  news,  and  is  de- 
solate, —  not  that  I  make  you  any  apologies  for  being 
so  brief.  I  have  ten  times  more  business  than  you, 
and  millions  of  letters  of  business ;  and  sure  you 
might  always  find  as  much  to  say  as  I  had  now. 


XXXVII. 

GARRICK'S" CHRISTMAS  TALE."-IN  PRAISE  OF  MUSIC. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Jan.  5,  1774. 
THE  physicians  continue  to  flatter  us  with  the  fair- 
est hopes  of  Lord  Orford's  recovery ;  yet  I  am  far 
from  seeing  any  solid  ground  to  build  on.  He  per- 
sists in  only  whispering,  is  impatient  of  all  contradic- 
tion, cannot  without  authority  be  kept  from  wine, 
thinks  of  nothing  but  his  dogs  and  horses,  and  the 
physicians  themselves  are  afraid  of  telling  him  they 
are  gone.  My  anxiety,  instead  of  being  lessened,  is 
doubled.  I  dare  not  contradict  the  faculty,  who,  I 
fear,  have  been  rash.  I  dread  a  relapse ;  I  dread 
still  more  the  consequences  of  a  sudden  release. 
The  physicians  have  said  he  is  so  well  that  all  his 
acquaintance  are  pouring  in  upon  him ;  and  yet  I 
am  told  I  must  keep  him  quiet  and  admit  nobody. 


128        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

My  whole  time  is  employed  in  sending  messages  to 
his  house ;  while  every  one  gives  me  different  advice, 
and  expects  I  should  attend  to  every  contrariety. 
But  though  you  are  so  very  kind,  madam,  as  to  in- 
terest yourself  in  my  perplexed  and  grievous  situa- 
tion, ought  I  to  weary  you  with  the  circumstances  ? 
Any  other  subject  is  preferable ;  but  I  have  no  news, 
and  if  I  spin  out  of  my  own  bowels,  what  can  I  find 
there  but  the  poison  I  have  been  swallowing  these 
eight  months? 

The  character  of  Lord  Chatham  was  written  by 
the  Irish  Mr.  Flood,1  and  published  in  Dublin  a 
year  ago  in  a  book  called  "  Baratariana."  Indeed 
there  was  little  probability  of  its  being  the  work  of 
Dr.  Robertson.  Could  so  much  truth  come  out  of 
Nazareth  ? 

The  play  at  Cashiobury  is  much  vaunted,  both  for 
acting  and  magnificence.  Mr.  Cradock,2  author  of 
a  bad  tragedy  called  "  Zobeide,"  was  introduced  be- 
tween the  acts  to  repeat  Gray's  Eton  "  Ode."  It  is 
a  pity  Sir  Ralph  Pain  was  not  here  to  pronounce  an 
oration  of  Demosthenes  or  Hurlothrumbo.  I  have 
seen  the  "  Christmas  Tale ;  "  it  is  a  due  mixture  of 
opera,  tragedy,  comedy,  and  pantomime,  with  beau- 
tiful scenes.  This  effort  of  genius  is,  among  others, 
given  to  me.  One  of  the  penalties  one  pays  for 
having  played  the  fool,  is  to  be  suspected  of  being 
a  greater  fool  and  oftener  than  one  is.  Not  that  I 
complain,  for  I  am  a  considerable  gainer  on  the  bal- 
ance of  false  reputation.  If  the  "  School  for  Wives  " 

1  An  error ;  written  by  Mr.  Grattan. 

2  The  friend  of  Goldsmith  and  Johnson. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE.        129 

and  the  "  Christmas  Tale  "  were  laid  to  me,  so  was 
"The  Heroic  Epistle."  I  could  certainly  have  writ- 
ten the  two  former,  but  not  the  latter.  Both  show 
for  what  judges  men  become  authors.  I  daresay 
the  Heroic  bard  is  as  much  offended  at  being  con- 
founded with  me  as  I  am  with  the  others,  and  with 
more  reason.  Mediocrity  is  much  nearer  to  the  bot- 
tom than  to  the  top ;  but  here  am  I  talking  of  com- 
mon writers  when  I  can  tell  you  of  a  noble  one 
to  be  enrolled  in  my  Catalogue.  The  present  Lord 
Granby  is  an  author,  and  has  written  a  poem  on 
"  Charity,"  and  in  prose  a  "  Modest  Apology  for  Adul- 
tery." I  am  even  assured  they  have  been  printed  and 
published ;  I  much  doubt  the  latter,  but  have  em- 
ployed emissaries  to  find  out  the  truth.  They  say 
his  lordship  writes  in  concert  with  a  very  clever 
young  man  whose  name  I  have  forgotten. 

I  condole  for  your  loss  of  the  Graces  *  and  the 
breaking  up  of  your  Academy.  Methinks  I  wish 
Lord  Ossory  would  employ  Sir  Joshua  on  a  large  pic- 
ture like  Rubens  in  the  Luxembourg.  Lady  Anne's 
education  will  certainly  turn  out  better  than  that  .of 
Mary  de'  Medici.  You  must  hold  her  in  your  lap  : 
our  lord,  like  Mercury,  introduces  the  three  Vernons, 
and  with  so  much  truth,  you  would  not  want  alle- 
gory, which  I  do  not  love.  You  will  stare  at  a 
strange  notion  of  mine :  if  it  appears  even  a  mad 
one,  do  not  wonder.  Had  I  children,  my  utmost 
endeavors  should  be  to  breed  them  musicians.  Con- 
sidering I  have  no  ear,  nor  ever  thought  of  music, 

1  The  three  Misses  Vernon,  whom  Walpole  had  addressed 
in  a  poem  as  "  The  Three  Graces." 
9 


130        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

the  preference  seems  odd;  and  yet  it  is  embraced 
on  frequent  reflection.  In  short,  madam,  as  my  aim 
would  be  to  make  them  happy,  I  think  it  the  most 
probable  method.  It  is  a  resource  will  last  their 
lives,  unless  they  grow  deaf;  it  depends  on  them- 
selves, not  on  others ;  always  amuses  and  soothes,  if 
not  consoles ;  and  of  all  fashionable  pleasures  is 
the  cheapest.  It  is  capable  of  fame,  without  the 
danger  of  criticism;  is  susceptible  of  enthusiasm, 
without  being  priest-ridden ;  and  unlike  other  mortal 
passions,  is  sure  of  being  gratified,  even  in  heaven. 


XXXVIII. 

TRIBUTE   TO    MASON   AS    EDITOR   AND   AUTHOR.  — 
CONCERNING  SLAVERY  IN  AMERICA. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

Feb.  14,  1774. 

I  AM  most  impatient  for  your  Lyric  section  and 
the  completion  of  the  Ode.  Nay,  I  am  glad  to 
have  lost  so  much  of  schoolboy  and  schoolmaster 
as  to  be  charmed  with  the  Fragment,  though  Dr. 
Barnard  frowns  on  it.  Pray  remember,  however, 
that  when  you  have  so  much  piety  for  Mr.  Gray's 
remains,  you  are  unpardonable  in  leaving  your  own 
works  imperfect.  I  trust,  as  you  will  now  enjoy 
your  own  garden  in  summer  and  will  have  finished 
the  Life  by  your  return  from  York,  that  you  will 
perfect  your  "  Essay  on  Modern  Gardening ;  "  you 

1  Master  at  Eton. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         131 

have  given  a  whole  year  to  your  friend,  and  are  in 
debt  to  the  public. 

My  troubles  are  at  an  end,  my  nephew  is  as  well 
as  ever  He  was,  and  is  gone  into  the  country  either 
to  complete  his  own  ruin  and  his  family's,  or  to 
relapse.  I  shall  feel  the  former,  I  dread  the  latter ; 
but  I  must  decline  the  charge  a  second  time.  It 
half  killed  me,  and  would  entirely  have  ruined  my 
health.  Indeed  it  has  hurt  me  so  much  that 
though  my  mind  has  recovered  its  tranquillity,  I 
cannot  yet  shake  off  the  impressions  and  recall 
my  spirits.  Six  months  of  gout  and  nine  of  stew- 
ardship and  fears  were  too  much  for  my  time  of 
life  and  want  of  strength.  The  villany  too  that  I 
have  seen  has  shocked  me  ;  and  memory  predom- 
inates over  cheerfulness.  My  inclination  will  cer- 
tainly carry  me  this  summer  into  Yorkshire,  if  dread 
of  my  biennial  gout  does  not  restrain  me.  Some- 
times I  have  a  mind  to  go  to  a  warmer  climate ; 
but  either  at  Aston  or  at  Strawberry  will  insist  on 
our  meeting  before  winter.  What  signifies  a  neigh- 
bor x  you  do  not  wish  to  see  ?  Are  our  enemies  to 
deprive  us  of  our  best  satisfaction,  —  seeing  our 
friends?  I  will  presume  to  say  you  cannot  have  a 
warmer  or  more  sincere  one  than  myself,  who  never 
call  myself  so  when  I  do  not  feel  myself  so,  and 
who  have  few  pleasures  left  but  that  of  saying  what 
I  think.  You  are  too  wise  and  too  good  not  to 
despise  the  dirtiness  of  fools,  or  to  regret  a  man 
who  came  to  years  of  discretion  before  he  was 

1  Alluding  to  Lord  Holdernesse,  who  lived  near  Straw- 
berry, and  was  disliked  by  Mason. 


132        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

past  his  childhood,  and  is  superannuated  before  he 
is  come  to  his  understanding.  He  is  decaying  fast, 
and  will  soon  exist  but  in  his  epitaph,  like  those 
poor  Knights  of  Windsor  who  are  recorded  on  their 
gravestones  for  their  loyalty  to  Charles  I. 

The  House  of  Lords  is  busy  on  the  question  of 
Literary  Property,  —  a  question  that  lies  between  the 
integrity  of  Scotch  authors  and  English  booksellers. 
The  other  House  has  got  into  a  new  scrape  with 
the  City  and  printers,  which  I  suppose  will  end  to 
the  detriment  of  the  press.  The  Ministers  have  a 
much  tougher  business  on  their  hand,  in  which 
even  their  factotum  the  Parliament  may  not  be 
able  to  insure  success,  —  I  mean  the  rupture  with 
America.  If  all  the  black  slaves  were  in  rebellion, 
I  should  have  no  doubt  in  choosing  my  side ;  but  I 
scarce  wish  perfect  freedom  to  merchants  who  are 
the  bloodiest  of  all  tyrants.  I  should  think  the 
souls  of  the  Africans  would  sit  heavy  on  the  swords 
of  the  Americans. 

We  are  still  expecting  the  Works  of  Lord  Ches- 
terfield and  Lord  Lyttelton,  —  on  my  part  with  no 
manner  of  impatience :  one  was  an  ape  of  the 
French,  the  other  of  the  Greeks ;  and  I  like  neither 
second-hand  pertness  nor  solemnity.  There  is  pub- 
lished a  "  Postscript "  to  the  "  Heroic  Epistle,"  cer- 
tainly by  the  same  author,1  as  is  evident  by  some 
charming  lines,  but  inferior  to  the  former,  as  second 
parts  are  apt  to  be.  The  History  of  Charles  Fox 
and  Mrs.  Grieve  is  come  out  too  in  rhyme,  wretch- 
edly done,  but  minutely  true.  I  think  I  have  told 
1  Mason  himself. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         133 

you  all  I  know,  and  more  than  you  will  care  whether 
you  know  or  not.  It  is  an  insipid  age.  Even  the 
Maccaronis  degenerate;  they  have  lost  all  their 
money  and  credit,  and  ruin  nobody  but  their  tailors. 
Adieu. 


XXXIX. 

HOUGHTON  AND   LAWYERS.  — LITERARV  PROPERTY. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  March  23,  1774. 
DEAR  SIR,  —  I  wrote  my  last  in  a  great  hurry, 
and  not  much  knowing  what  I  said,  being  just 
lighted  from  my  chaise  after  being  a  fortnight  at 
Houghton  with  my  nephew,  where  my  head  was 
filled  with  business,  and  my  heart  with  anxiety  and 
grief  and  twenty  other  passions,  for  (not  to  return 
to  the  subject)  if  he  is  recovered  I  doubt  it  will  not 
be  for  a  long  season.  He  is  neither  temperate  in 
his  regimen  nor  conduct,  and  if  I  have  chased  away 
seven  evil  spirits,  as  many  are  ready  to  enter.  In 
short,  the  rest  of  my  life,  I  find,  and  they  will  shorten 
it,  is  to  be  spent  in  contests  with  lawyers,  the  worst 
sort  of  lawyers,  attorneys,  stewards,  farmers,  mort- 
gagees, and  toad-eaters.  I  do  not  advance,  and 
cannot  retreat.  I  wished  to  live  only  for  my  friends 
and  myself;  I  must  now,  I  find,  live  for  my  rela- 
tions —  or  die  for  them.  You  are  very  kind  in  pity- 
ing, and  advising  me  to  consult  my  ease  and  health ; 
but  if  you  knew  my  whole  story,  and  it  was  not  too 
long,  even  for  a  series  of  letters  like  Clarissa's,  you 


134        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

would  encourage  me  to  proceed.  For  I  flatter  my- 
self that  my  duty  is  the  incentive  to  my  conduct,  and 
you,  whose  life  is  blameless,  would,  I  am  sure,  advise 
your  friend  to  sacrifice  his  happiness  at  last  to  his 
family,  and  to  the  memory  of  a  father  to  whom  he 
owes  everything.  But  no  more  on  this,  though  it 
has,  and  does  occupy  my  mind  so  much  that  I  am 
absolutely  ignorant  of  the  affairs  of  the  world,  and 
of  all  political  and  literary  news,  though  the  latter 
are  the  only  comforts  of  the  few  moments  I  have 
to  myself. 

I  began  Mr.  Bryant's  —  what  shall  I  call  it?  — 
pre-existent  "  History  of  the  World,"  but  had  not 
time  to  finish  the  first  volume.  It  put  me  in  mind 
of  Prior's  Madam,  who  — 

"  To  cut  things,  came  down  to  Adam." 

There  are  two  pages  under  the  Radical  Macar  that 
will  divert  you,  —  an  absolute  account  of  Ma/capwves, 
though  I  dare  to  swear  the  good  man  never  dreamed 
that  he  was  writing  the  history  of  Almack's.  I  have 
just  got  Mr.  Warton's  "Life  of  Poetry,"  and  it 
seems  delightfully  full  of  things  I  love,  but  not  a 
minute  to  begin  it ;  nor  Campbell's  long-expected 
work  on  Commerce,  which  he  told  me,  twenty  years 
ago,  should  be  the  basis  on  which  he  meant  to  build 
his  reputation.  Lord  Lyttelton  and  Lord  Chester- 
field are  coming  forth,  and  one  must  run  them  over 
in  self-defence.  Still  I  say  to  you,  O  quando  ego  te 
aspiciam  —  yes,  Te,  both  you  and  your  Gray  !  I 
am  impatient  for  the  remainder,  though  I  would  not 
have  it  hurried. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         135 

Mr.  Stonhewer  will  have  told  you  what  I  said  on 
the  print  [of  Gray]  ;  but  if  he  could  make  sense 
of  it  I  shall  wonder,  for  I  was  on  both  sides  :  for 
your  print,  as  the  more  agreeable  ;  for  Wilson's  pic- 
ture as  extremely  like,  though  a  likeness  that  shocks 
one.  There  are  marks,  evident  marks,  of  its  being 
painted  after  Gray's  death  ;  I  would  not  hang  it 
up  in  my  house  for  the  world.  I  think  I  am  now 
come  to  know  my  own  mind  :  it  is  to  have  prints 
of  both,  —  from  yours  at  the  beginning  to  front  his 
Juvenilia ;  from  Wilson's,  at  or  towards  the  end,  as 
the  exact  representation  of  him  in  his  last  years  of 
life.  The  delay  will  not  signify,  as  your  book  is  a 
lasting  one,  —  no  matter  if  it  comes  out  in  the  mid- 
dle of  summer.  It  does  not  depend  for  its  sale  on 
a  full  London :  it  will  be  sent  for  into  the  country, 
and  will  always  continue  to  be  sold.  Were  I  to 
write  anything  that  I  could  hope  to  have  minded, 
I  would  publish  in  summer.  The  first  ball,  duel, 
divorce,  new  prologue  of  Garrick,  or  debate  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  makes  everything  forgotten  in 
a  minute  in  winter.  Wedderburn's  philippic  on 
Franklin,  that  was  cried  up  to  the  skies,  Chief  Jus- 
tice de  Grey's  on  Literary  Property,  Lord  Sandwich's 
honorable  behavior  to  Miller  the  printer,  are  already 
at  the  bottom  of  Lethe.  Mademoiselle  Heinel 
dances  to-morrow,  and  Wedderburn  and  Lord  Sand- 
wich will  catch  their  deaths  if  they  wait  in  either 
of  the  Temples  of  Fame  or  Infamy  in  expectation 
of  admirers. 

I  know  not  a  word  more  than  I  told  you,  or  you 
have  heard,  of  the  affair  of  Literary  Property.  Lord 


136        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Mansfield's  finesse,  as  you  call  it,  was  christened  by 
its  true  names,  —  pitiful  and  paltry.  Poor  Mrs.  Ma- 
caulay  has  written  a  very  bad  pamphlet  on  the  sub- 
ject. It  marks  dejection  and  sickness.  In  truth, 
anybody  that  has  principles  must  feel.  Half  of  the 
King's  Opposition  at  least  are  hurrying  to  Court. 
Sir  William  Meredith  has  ridden  thither  on  a  white 
stick  •  Colonel  Barre  on  the  necks  of  the  Bosto- 
nians,  his  old  friends ;  Mr.  Burke,  who  has  a  toler- 
able stake  in  St.  Vincent's,  seems  to  think  it  worth 
all  the  rest  of  America.  Still,  I  do  not  know  how, 
an  amazing  bill  of  an  amazing  parent  has  slipped 
through  the  ten  thousand  fingers  of  venality,  and 
gives  the  Constitution  some  chance  of  rousing  itself, 
—  I  mean  Grenville's  bill  for  trying  Elections.  It 
passed  as  rapidly  as  if  it  had  been  for  a  repeal  of 
Magna  Charta,  brought  in  by  Mr.  Cofferer  Dyson. 
Well !  it  is  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  I  must 
go  to  bed.  I  have  passed  one  calm  evening  here 
alone,  and  have  concluded  it  most  agreeably  by 
chatting  with  you.  To-morrow  I  must  return  into 
the  bustle ;  but  I  carry  everywhere  with  me  the 
melancholy  impression  of  my  life's  tranquillity  being 
at  an  end.  I  see  no  prospect  of  peace  for  me, 
whether  my  nephew  lives,  dies,  relapses,  or  remains 
as  he  is  at  present.  I  love  to  be  occupied,  but  in 
my  own  way,  unobserved  and  unconnected.  My 
joy  is  to  read  or  write  what  I  please,  —  not  letters  of 
business,  accounts  or  applications.  But  good  night ; 
I  have  tired  you  and  myself :  my  sole  excuse  is,  if 
you  will  take  it  for  one,  that  I  had  other  things  to 
do  that  I  should  have  liked  doing ;  but  writing  to 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE.         137 

you  was  the  greatest  pleasure,  and  according  to 
my  former  habits  I  preferred  what  amused  me 
best. 


XL. 

INDUCEMENTS  TO  VISIT    STRAWBERRY   HILL. 

To  Rev.   William  Cole. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  May  4,  1774. 
DEAR  SIR,  —  We  have  dropped  one  another,  as 
if  we  were  not  antiquaries,  but  people  of  this  world 
—  or  do  you  disclaim  me,  because  I  have  quitted 
the  Society?  I  could  give  you  but  two  sad  reasons 
for  my  silence.  The  gout  kept  entire  possession  of 
me  for  six  months ;  and  before  it  released  me,  Lord 
Orford's  illness  and  affairs  engrossed  me  totally.  I 
have  been  twice  in  Norfolk  since  you  heard  from  me. 
I  am  now  at  liberty  again.  What  is  your  account  of 
yourself?  To  ask  you  to  come  above  ground,  even 
so  far  as  to  see  me,  I  know  is  in  vain,  or  I  certainly 
would  ask  it.  You  impose  Carthusian  shackles  on 
yourself,  will  not  quit  your  cell,  nor  will  speak  above 
once  a  week.  I  am  glad  even  to  hear  of  you,  and 
to  see  your  hand,  though  you  make  that  as  much 
like  print  as  you  can.  If  you  were  to  be  tempted 
abroad,  it  would  be  a  pilgrimage ;  and  I  can  lure 
you  even  with  that.  My  Chapel  is  finished,  and  the 
shrine  will  actually  be  placed  in  less  than  a  fortnight. 
My  father  is  said  to  have  said  that  every  man  had 
his  price.  You  are  a  Beatus  indeed  if  you  resist  a 
shrine.  Why  should  not  you  add  to  your  claustral 


138     LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

virtues  that  of  a  peregrination  to  Strawberry?  You 
will  find  me  quite  alone  in  July.  Consider,  Straw- 
berry is  almost  the  last  monastery  left,  at  least  in 
England.  Poor  Mr.  Bateman's  is  despoiled.  Lord 
Bateman  has  stripped  and  plundered  it ;  has  seques- 
tered the  best  things,  has  advertised  the  site,  and  is 
dirtily  selling  by  auction  what  he  neither  would  keep, 
nor  sell  for  a  sum  that  is  worth  while.  I  was  hurt  to 
see  half  the  ornaments  of  the  chapel,  and  the  reli- 
quaries, and  in  short  a  thousand  trifles,  exposed  to 
sneers.  I  am  buying  a  few  to  keep  for  the  founder's 
sake.  Surely  it  is  very  indecent  for  a  favorite  rela- 
tion, who  is  rich,  to  show  so  little  remembrance  and 
affection.  I  suppose  Strawberry  will  have  the  same 
fate.  It  has  already  happened  to  two  of  my  friends. 
Lord  Bristol  got  his  mother's  house  from  his  brother 
[Augustus],  by  persuading  her  he  was  in  love  with 
it.  He  let  it  in  a  month  after  she  was  dead ;  and  all 
her  favorite  pictures  and  ornaments,  which  she  had 
ordered  not  to  be  removed,  are  mouldering  in  a 
garret ! 

You  are  in  the  right  to  care  so  little  for  a  world 
where  there  is  no  measure  but  avoirdupois.     Adieu  ! 
Yours  sincerely. 


LEl^TERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        139 


XLI. 

DEGENERATION  OF  THE    PRESENT    TIME. — 
PLEASURES   OF    OLD    AGE. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

EXCUSE  me,  but  I  cannot  take  your  advice,  nor 
intend  to  print  any  more  for  the  public.  When  I 
offer  you  my  press  it  is  most  selfishly,  and  to  possess 
your  writings,  for  I  would  only  print  a  few  copies  for 
your  friends  and  mine.  My  last  volume  of  the 
"Anecdotes  of  Painting"  has  long  been  finished, 
and  as  a  debt  shall  some  time  or  other  be  published ; 
but  there  I  take  my  leave  of  Messieurs  the  readers. 
Let  Dr.  Johnson  please  this  age  with  the  fustian  of 
his  style  and  the  meanness  of  his  spirit ;  both  are 
good  and  great  enough  for  the  taste  and  practice  pre- 
dominant. I  think  this  country  sinking  fast  into  ruin  ; 
and  when  it  is  become  an  absolute  monarchy,  and 
thence  insignificant,  I  do  not  desire  to  be  remem- 
bered by  slaves,  and  in  a  French  province.  I  would 
not  be  Virgil  or  Boileau  on  such  conditions.  Present 
amusement  is  all  my  object  in  reading,  writing,  or 
printing.  To  gratify  the  first  especially,  I  wish  to 
see  your  poem  finished,  — 

"  You,  who  erewhile  the  happy  garden  sung, 

Continue  to sing 

Recovered  Paradise  !    .     .     .     " 

I  am  less  impatient  for  Gray's  Life,  being  sure  of 
seeing  it,  whether  published  or  not ;  and  as  I  con- 


140        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

elude  neither  his  letters  nor  Latin  poems  will  be 
admired  to  the  height  they  deserve,  I  am  jealous  of 
his  fame,  and  do  not  like  its  being  cast  before 
swine.  In  short,  I  wish  his  and  your  writings  to 
meet  with  a  fate  that  not  many  years  ago  was 
reckoned  an  ignominy,  that  they  may  be  sent  to  the 
colonies  !  for 

"  Arts  and  sciences  will  travel  west," 
and 

"  The  sad  Nine  in  Britain's  evil  hour  " 

will  embark  for  America. 

I  have  been  in  Gloucestershire,  and  can  add  a 
little  to  the  Catalogue,  having  seen  Berkeley  Castle, 
Thornbury  Castle,  and  a  charming  small  old  house 
of  the  Abbots  of  Gloucester.  Indeed  I  could  not 
enjoy  the  first,  for  the  Earl  was  in  it  with  all  his 
Militia,  and  dispelled  visions.  To  Wentworth  Castle 
I  shall  certainly  make  no  visit  this  year.  If  I  went 
any  journey  it  would  be  to  Paris;  but  indolence, 
persisting  in  her  apprehensions  of  the  gout,  though 
I  have  had  no  symptoms  of  it  for  some  time,  will  fix 
me  here  and  hereabouts.  I  discover  charms  in 
idleness  that  I  never  had  a  notion  of  before,  and 
perceive  that  age  brings  pleasures  as  well  as  takes 
away.  There  is  a  serenity  in  having  nothing  to  do, 
that  is  delicious ;  I  am  persuaded  that  little  princes 
assumed  the  title  of  serene  highness  from  that 
sensation.  Your  assured  friend, 

HORACE  LE  FAINEANT. 
Given  at  our  Castle  of  Nonsuch,  Aug.  23,  1774. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         141 


XLII. 

AN  ADVENTURE   ON   THE   THAMES. 
To  John  Crawfurd,  Esq. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Sept.  26,  1774. 
You  tell  me  to  write  to  you,  and  I  am  certainly 
disposed  to  do  anything  I  can  to  amuse  you ;  but 
that  is  not  so  easy  a  matter,  for  two  very  good 
reasons  :  you  are  not  the  most  amusable  of  men, 
and  I  have  nothing  to  amuse  you  with,  for  you  are 
like  electricity,  you  attract  and  repel  at  once ;  and 
though  you  have  at  first  a  mind  to  know  anything, 
you  are  tired  of  it  before  it  can  be  told.  I  don't  go 
to  Almack's,  nor  amongst  your  acquaintance.  Would 
you  bear  to  hear  of  mine,  —  of  Lady  Blandford,  Lady 
Anne  Conolly,  and  the  Duchess  of  Newcastle  ?  For 
by  age  and  situation  at  this  time  of  the  year  I  live 
with  nothing  but  old  women.  They  do  very  well  for 
me  who  have  little  choice  left,  and  who  rather  prefer 
common  nonsense  to  wise  nonsense,  —  the  only  dif- 
ference I  know  between  old  women  and  old  men. 
I  am  out  of  all  politics,  and  never  think  of  elections, 
which  I  think  I  should  hate  even  if  I  loved  politics ; 
just  as  if  I  loved  tapestry  I  do  not  think  I  could  talk 
over  the  manufacture  of  worsteds.  Books  I  have 
almost  done  with  too,  —  at  least  read  only  such  as 
nobody  else  would  read.  In  short,  my  way  of  life  is 
too  insipid  to  entertain  anybody  but  myself,  and 
though  I  am  always  employed,  I  must  own  I  think 


I42        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

I  have  given  up  everything  in  the  world  only  to  be 
busy  about  the  most  arrant  trifles. 

Well,  I  have  made  out  half  a  letter  with  a  history 
very  like  the  journal  in  the  "  Spectator  "  of  the  man, 
the  chief  incidents  of  whose  life  were  stroking  his 
cat  and  walking  to  Hampstead.  Last  night,  indeed, 
I  had  an  adventure  that  would  make  a  great  figure 
in  such  a  narrative.  You  may  be  enjoying  bright 
suns  and  serene  horizons  under  the  pole,  but  in  this 
dismal  southern  region  it  has  rained  for  this  month 
without  interruption.  Lady  Browne  and  I  dined  as 
usual  on  Sundays  with  Lady  Blandford.  Our  gentle 
Thames  was  swelled  in  the  morning  to  a  very  re- 
spectable magnitude,  and  we  had  thought  of  return- 
ing by  Kew  Bridge ;  however,  I  persuaded  her  to  try 
if  we  could  not  ferry,  and  when  we  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  the  bargemen  told  us  the  water  was  sunk. 
We  embarked,  and  had  four  men  to  push  the  ferry. 
The  night  was  very  dark,  for  though  the  moon  was 
up,  we  could  neither  see  her,  nor  she  us.  The 
bargemen  were  drunk,  the  poles  would  scarce  reach 
the  bottom,  and  in  five  minutes  the  rapidity  of  the 
current  turned  the  barge  round,  and  in  an  instant 
we  were  at  Isleworth.  The  drunkenest  of  the  men 
cried  out,  "  She  is  gone,  she  is  lost !  "  meaning  they 
had  lost  the  management.  Lady  Browne  fell  into 
an  agony,  began  screaming  and  praying  to  Jesus, 
and  every  land  and  water  god  and  goddess,  and  I, 
who  expected  not  to  stop  till  we  should  run  against 
Kew  Bridge,  was  contriving  how  I  should  get  home ; 
or  what  was  worse,  whether  I  must  not  step  into 
some  mud  up  to  my  middle,  be  wet  through;  and  get 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,         143 

the  gout.  With  much  ado  they  recovered  the  barge 
and  turned  it ;  but  then  we  ran  against  the  piles  of 
the  new  bridge,  which  startled  the  horses,  who  began 
kicking.  My  Phillis's  terrors  increased,  and  I 
thought  every  minute  she  would  have  begun  con- 
fession. Thank  you,  you  need  not  be  uneasy;  in 
ten  minutes  we  landed  very  safely,  and  if  we  had 
been  drowned,  I  am  too  exact  not  to  have  dated  my 
letter  from  the  bottom  of  the  Thames.  There  ! 
there  's  a  letter ;  I  think  you  would  not  wish  to  read 
such  another,  even  if  written  to  somebody  else. 
Yours  ever. 


XLIII. 

CAUTIONS   RELATING  TO  PARIS. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Sept.  28,  1774. 
LADY  AILESBURY  brings  you  this,1  which  is  not  a 
letter,  but  a  paper  of  directions,  and  the  counter- 
part of  what  I  have  written  to  Madame  du  Deffand. 
I  beg  of  you  seriously  to  take  a  great  deal  of  notice 
of  this  dear  old  friend  of  mine.  She  will  perhaps 
expect  more  attention  from  you,  as  my  friend,  and 
as  it  is  her  own  nature  a  little,  than  will  be  quite 
convenient  to  you ;  but  you  have  an  infinite  deal  of 
patience  and  good-nature,  and  will  excuse  it.  I  was 

1  Mr.  Conway's  military  tour  ended  at  Paris.  His  wife, 
Lady  Ailesbury,  and  their  daughter,  Mrs.  Darner,  were  to 
join  him  and  spend  the  winter  there. 


144        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

afraid  of  her  importuning  Lady  Ailesbury,  who  has 
a  vast  deal  to  see  and  do,  and,  therefore,  I  have 
prepared  Madame  du  Deffand,  and  told  her  Lady 
Ailesbury  loves  amusements,  and  that,  having  never 
been  at  Paris  before,  she  must  not  confine  her ;  so 
you  must  pay  for  both,  and  it  will  answer ;  and  I  do 
not,  I  own,  ask  this  only  for  Madame  du  Deffand's 
sake,  but  for  my  own,  and  a  little  for  yours.  Since 
the  late  King's  [Louis  XV.]  death  she  has  not  dared 
to  write  to  me  freely,  and  I  want  to  know  the  present 
state  of  France  exactly,  both  to  satisfy  my  own  curi- 
osity, and  for  her  sake,  as  I  wish  to  learn  whether 
her  pension,  etc.,  is  in  any  danger  from  the  present 
Ministry,  some  of  whom  are  not  her  friends.  She 
can  tell  you  a  great  deal  if  she  will,  —  by  that  I  don't 
mean  that  she  is  reserved,  or  partial  to  her  own 
country  against  ours,  quite  the  contrary;  she  loves 
me  better  than  all  France  together,  —  but  she  hates 
politics,  and  therefore,  to  make  her  talk  on  it,  you 
must  tell  her  it  is  to  satisfy  me,  and  that  I  want  to 
know  whether  she  is  well  at  Court,  whether  she  has 
any  fears  from  the  Government,  particularly  from 
Maurepas  and  Nivernois;  and  that  I  am  eager  to 
have  Monsieur  de  Choiseul  and  ma  grandmaman, 
the  Duchess,  restored  to  power.  If  you  take  it  on 
this  foot  easily,  she  will  talk  to  you  with  the  utmost 
frankness  and  with  amazing  cleverness.  I  have  told 
her  you  are  strangely  absent,  and  that,  if  she  does 
not  repeat  it  over  and  over,  you  will  forget  every 
syllable;  so  I  have  prepared  her  to  joke  and  be 
quite  familiar  with  you  at  once.  She  knows  more 
of  personal  characters,  and  paints  them  better,  than 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         145 

anybody ;  but  let  this  be  between  ourselves,  for  I 
would  not  have  a  living  soul  suspect  that  I  get  any 
intelligence  from  her,  which  would  hurt  her ;  and, 
therefore,  I  beg  you  not  to  let  any  human  being 
know  of  this  letter,  nor  of  your  conversation  with 
her,  neither  English  nor  French. 

Madame  du  Deffand  hates  le s  philosophes  ;  so  you 
must  give  them  up  to  her.  She  and  Madame  Geof- 
frin  are  no  friends ;  so,  if  you  go  thither,  don't  tell 
her  of  it.  Indeed  you  would  be  sick  of  that  house, 
whither  all  the  pretended  beaux  esprits  and  faux  sa- 
vants go,  and  where  they  are  very  impertinent  and 
dogmatic. 

Let  me  give  you  one  other  caution,  which  I  shall 
give  Lady  Ailesbury  too.  Take  care  of  your  papers 
at  Paris,  and  have  a  very  strong  lock  to  your  porte- 
feuille.  In  the  hdtels  garnis  they  have  double  keys 
to  every  lock,  and  examine  every  drawer  and  paper 
of  the  English  they  can  get  at.  They  will  pilfer, 
too,  whatever  they  can.  I  was  robbed  of  half  my 
clothes  there  the  first  time,  and  they  wanted  to  hang 
poor  Louis  [his  Swiss  servant]  to  save  the  people  of 
the  house  who  had  stolen  the  things. 

Here  is  another  thing  I  must  say.  Madame  du 
Deffand  has  kept  a  great  many  of  my  letters,  and,  as 
she  is  very  old,  I  am  in  pain  about  them.  I  have 
written  to  her  to  beg  she  will  deliver  them  up  to  you 
to  bring  back  to  me,  and  I  trust  she  will.  If  she 
does,  be  so  good  to  take  great  care  of  them.  If  she 
does  not  mention  them,  tell  her  just  before  you  come 
away,  that  I  begged  you  to  bring  them ;  and  if  she 
hesitates,  convince  her  how  it  would  hurt  me  to  have 


146        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

letters  written  in  very  bad  French,  and  mentioning 
several  people,  both  French  and  English,  fall  into 
bad  hands,  and  perhaps  be  printed. 

Let  me  desire  you  to  read,  this  letter  more  than 
once,  that  you  may  not  forget  my  requests,  which 
are  very  important  to  me ;  and  I  must  give  you  one 
other  caution,  without  which  all  would  be  useless. 
There  is  at  Paris  a  Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse,  a 
pretended  bel  esprit,  who  was  formerly  an  humble 
companion  of  Madame  du  Deffand,  and  betrayed 
her  and  used  her  very  ill.  I  beg  of  you  not  to  let 
anybody  carry  you  thither.  It  would  disoblige  my 
friend  of  all  things  in  the  world,  and  she  would 
never  tell  you  a  syllable ;  and  I  own  it  would  hurt 
me,  who  have  such  infinite  obligations  to  her  that  I 
should  be  very  unhappy  if  a  particular  friend  of 
mine  showed  her  this  disregard.  She  has  done 
everything  upon  earth  to  please  and  serve  me,  and 
I  owe  it  to  her  to  be  earnest  about  this  attention. 
Pray  do  not  mention  it,  it  might  look  simple  in  me ; 
and  yet  I  owe  it  to  her,  as  I  know  it  would  hurt  her. 
And  at  her  age,  with  her  misfortunes,  and  with  infi- 
nite obligations  on  my  side,  can  I  do  too  much  to 
show  my  gratitude,  or  prevent  her  any  new  mortifi- 
cation? I  dwell  upon  it,  because  she  has  some 
enemies  so  spiteful  that  they  try  to  carry  all  English 
to  Mademoiselle  de  1'Espinasse. 

I  wish  the  Duchess  of  Choiseul  may  come  to 
Paris  while  you  are  there ;  but  I  fear  she  will  not : 
you  would  like  her  of  all  things.  She  has  more 
sense  and  more  virtues  than  almost  any  human 
being.  If  you  choose  to  see  any  of  the  savants,  let 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,         147 

me  recommend  Monsieur  Buffon.  He  has  not  only 
much  more  sense  than  any  of  them,  but  is  an  excel- 
lent old  man,  humane,  gentle,  well-bred,  and  with 
none  of  the  arrogant  pertness  of  all  the  rest.  If  he 
is  at  Paris,  you  will  see  a  good  deal  of  the  Comte  de 
Broglie  at  Madame  du  Deffand's.  He  is  not  a 
genius  of  the  first  water,  but  lively,  and  sometimes 
agreeable.  The  Court,  I  fear,  will  be  at  Fontaine- 
bleau,  which  will  prevent  your  seeing  many,  unless 
you  go  thither.  Adieu  !  at  Paris  !  I  leave  the  rest 
of  my  paper  for  England,  if  I  happen  to  have  any- 
thing particular  to  tell  you. 


XLIV. 

DISTRESSED    STATE   OF   THE   KINGDOM. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Nov.  n,  1774. 
I  HAVE  very  little  to  tell  you.  Every  day  may 
bring  us  critical  news  from  America,  which  will  give 
the  chief  color  to  the  winter.  I  am  in  perfect  igno- 
rance of  the  situation  of  affairs  there.  I  live  quietly 
here,  unconnected  with  all  factions,  enjoying  the 
delightful  place  I  have  made,  and  even  enjoying  my 
old  age,  since  the  gout  keeps  away.  The  bitterness 
of  the  last  fit,  succeeded  by  my  stewardship,  gives  a 
flavor  to  my  tranquillity  that,  perhaps,  I  should  not 
taste  so  much,  if  I  had  not  lost  it  for  nearly  a  year 
and  a  half.  I  propose  to  be  little  absent  hence  till 
after  Christmas,  —  a  longer  stay  than  I  ever  made  in 


148        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

the  country ;  but  what  can  I  see  in  London  that  I 
have  not  seen  fifty  times  over?  There  is  a  new 
race,  indeed,  but  does  it  promise  to  make  the  times 
more  agreeable  ?  Does  the  world  talk  of  our  orators, 
poets,  or  wits  ?  Oh,  no  !  It  talks  of  vast  fortunes 
made,  or  vast  fortunes  lost  at  play  !  It  talks  of 
Wilkes  at  the  top  of  the  wheel,  and  of  Charles  Fox 
at  the  bottom ;  all  between  is  a  blank. 

It  is  not  much  better  anywhere  else.  The  King 
of  Prussia,  the  hero  of  the  last  war,  has  only  been  a 
pickpocket  in  Poland.  The  Austrian  and  Russian 
eagles  have  turned  vultures,  and  preyed  on  desolated 
champaigns.  The  Turkish  war  ended  one  don't 
know  how,  without  any  signal  action.  France  has 
been  making  Parliaments  cross  over  and  figure-in, 
and  yet  without  the  scene  being  at  all  amusing. 
For  my  part,  I  take  Europe  to  be  worn  out.  When 
Voltaire  dies,  we  may  say,  "  Good  night !  "  I  don't 
believe  this  age  will  be  more  read  than  the  Byzan- 
tine historians. 

Nov.  \ifk. 

There  are  advices  from  America  that  are  said  to 
be  extremely  bad.  I  don't  know  the  particulars, 
but  I  have  never  augured  well  of  that  dispute  !  I  fear 
we  neither  know  how  to  proceed  or  retreat !  I 
believe  this  is  the  case  with  many  individuals,  as 
well  as  with  the  public.  Within  this  week  we  have 
had  two  deaths  out  of  the  common  course.  Brad- 
shaw, l  a  man  well  known  of  late,  but  in  a  more 
silent  way  than  for  his  fame  to  have  reached  you, 
shot  himself  yesterday  sennight.  His  beginning 
1  Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        149 

was  very  obscure ;  when  he  grew  more  known,  it 
was  not  to  his  honor.  He  has  since  been  a  very 
active  Minister,  of  the  second  or  third  class,  and 
more  trusted,  perhaps,  than  some  of  a  higher  class. 
Instead  of  making  a  great  fortune,  he  had  spent  one, 
and  could  not  go  on  a  week  longer.  The  Duke  of 
Athol  is  dead  as  suddenly,  —  drowned  certainly  ; 
whether  delirious  from  a  fever  or  from  some  disap- 
pointment, is  not  clear.  Two  evenings  ago  Lord 
Berkeley  shot  a  highwayman,  —  in  short,  frenzy  is  at 
work  from  top  to  bottom,  and  I  doubt  we  shall  not 
be  cool  till  there  has  been  a  good  deal  of  blood  let. 
You  and  I  shall,  probably,  not  see  the  subsiding  of 
the  storm,  if  the  humors  do  boil  over;  and  can  a 
nation  be  in  a  high  fever  without  a  crisis?  I  see 
the  patients ;  I  do  not  see  the  doctors.  Adieu  ! 


XLV. 

CONDUCT    OF    AMERICA    CONTRASTED  WITH  THAT  OF 
ENGLAND. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Dec.  15,  1774. 
As  I  wrote  to  Lady  Aylesbury  but  on  Tuesday,  I 
should  not  have  followed  it  so  soon  with  this,  if  I 
had  nothing  to  tell  you  but  of  myself.  My  gouts 
are  never  dangerous,  and  the  shades  of  them  not 
important.  However,  to  (despatch  this  article  at 
once,  I  will  tell  you  that  the  pain  I  felt  yesterday 
in  my  elbow  made  me  think  all  former  pain  did  not 
deserve  the  name.  Happily  the  torture  did  not  last 


150        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

above  two  hours;  and,  which  is  more  surprising,  it 
is  all  the  real  pain  I  have  felt ;  for  though  my  hand 
has  been  as  sore  as  if  flayed,  and  that  both  feet  are 
lame,  the  bootikins  demonstrably  prevent  or  extract 
the  sting  of  it,  and  I  see  no  reason  not  to  expect  to 
get  out  in  a  fortnight  more.  Surely,  if  I  am  laid 
up  but  one  month  in  two  years,  instead  of  five  or 
six,  I  have  reason  to  think  the  bootikins  sent  from 
heaven. 

The  long-expected  sloop  is  arrived  at  last,  and 
is  indeed  a  man-of-war!  The  General  Congress 
have  voted,  a  non-importation,  a  non-exportation,  a 
non-consumption ;  that,  in  case  of  hostilities  com- 
mitted by  the  troops  at  Boston,  the  several  provinces 
will  march  to  the  assistance  of  their  countrymen; 
that  the  cargoes  of  ships  now  at  sea  shall  be  sold 
on  their  arrival,  and  the  money  arising  thence  given 
to  the  poor  at  Boston ;  that  a  letter,  in  the  nature 
of  a  petition  of  rights,  shall  be  sent  to  the  King ;  an- 
other to  the  House  of  Commons;  a  third  to  the 
people  of  England ;  a  demand  of  repeal  of  all  the 
Acts  of  Parliament  affecting  North  America  passed 
during  this  reign,  as  also  of  the  Quebec  bill :  and 
these  resolutions  not  to  be  altered  till  such  repeal  is 
obtained. 

Well,  I  believe  you  do  not  regret  being  neither  in 
Parliament  nor  in  administration  !  As  you  are  an 
idle  man,  and  have  nothing  else  to  do,  you  may  sit 
down  and  tell  one  a  remedy  for  all  this.  Perhaps 
you  will  give  yourself  airs,  and  say  you  was  a  prophet, 
and  that  prophets  are  not  honored  in  their  own  coun- 
try. Yet,  if  you  have  any  inspiration  about  you,  I 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         151 

assure  you  it  will  be  of  great  service  ;  we  are  at  our 
wit's  end,  —  which  was  no  great  journey.  Oh  !  you 
conclude  Lord  Chatham's  crutch  will  be  supposed 
a  wand,  and  be  sent  for.  They  might  as  well  send 
for  my  crutch,  —  and  they  should  not  have  it ;  the 
stile  is  a  little  too  high  to  help  them  over.  His  Lord- 
ship is  a  little  fitter  for  raising  a  storm  than  laying 
one,  and  of  late  seems  to  have  lost  both  virtues. 
The  Americans  at  least  have  acted  like  men,  gone 
to  the  bottom  at  once,  and  set  the  whole  upon  the 
whole.  Our  conduct  has  been  that  of  pert  children  : 
we  have  thrown  a  pebble  at  a  mastiff,  and  are  sur- 
prised it  was  not  frightened.  Now  we  must  be  wor- 
ried by  it,  or  must  kill  the  guardian  of  the  house, 
which  will  be  plundered  the  moment  little  master 
has  nothing  but  the  old  nurse  to  defend  it.  But  I 
have  done  with  reflections;  you  will  be  fuller  of 
them  than  I. 


XLVI. 

ON  PUBLIC  AFFAIRS. 

To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway. 

January  22,   1775. 

AFTER  the  magnificent  overture  for  peace  from 
Lord  Chatham,  that  I  announced  to  Madame  du 
Deffand,  you  will  be  most  impatient  for  my  letter. 
Ohime !  you  will  be  sadly  disappointed.  Instead 
of  drawing  a  circle  with  his  wand  round  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  ordering  them  to  pacify  America,  on 


152        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

the  terms  he  prescribed  before  they  ventured  to 
quit  the  circumference  of  his  commands,  he  brought 
a  ridiculous,  uncommunicated,  unconsulted  motion 
for  addressing  the  King  immediately  to  withdraw  the 
troops  from  Boston,  as  an  earnest  of  lenient  meas- 
ures. The  Opposition  stared  and  shrugged;  the 
courtiers  stared  and  laughed.  His  own  two  or  three 
adherents  left  him,  except  Lord  Camden  and  Lord 
Shelburne,  and  except  Lord  Temple,  who  is  not  his 
adherent,  and  was  not  there.  Himself  was  not  much 
animated,  but  very  hostile,  —  particularly  on  Lord 
Mansfield,  who  had  taken  care  not  to  be  there.  He 
talked  of  three  millions  of  Whigs  in  America,  and 
told  the  Ministers  they  were  checkmated  and  had 
not  a  move  left  to  make.  Lord  Camden  was  as 
strong.  Lord  Suffolk  was  thought  to  do  better  than 
ever,  and  Lord  Lyttleton's  declamation  was  com- 
mended as  usual.  At  last,  Lord  Rockingham,  very 
punily,  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  joined  and  sup- 
ported the  motion ;  but  at  eight  at  night  it  was  re- 
jected by  68  to  1 8,  though  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
voted  for  it.1 

This  interlude  would  be  only  entertaining,  if  the 
scene  was  not  so  totally  gloomy.  The  Cabinet  have 
determined  on  civil  war,  and  regiments  are  going 
from  Ireland  and  our  West  Indian  islands.  On 
Thursday  the  plan  of  the  war  is  to  be  laid  before 
both  Houses. 

1  This  debate  was  the  same  one  heard  by  Dr.  Franklin, 
who  said  of  Chatham's  speech:  "  I  have  seen,  in  the  course  of 
my  life,  sometimes  eloquence  without  wisdom,  and  often  wis- 
dom without  eloquence ;  in  the  present  instance,  I  see  both 
united,  and  both,  as  I  think,  in  the  highest  degree  possible." 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         153 

To-morrow  the  Merchants  carry  their  petition; 
which,  I  suppose,  will  be  coolly  received,  since,  if 
I  hear  true,  the  system  is  to  cut  off  all  traffic  with 
America  at  present  —  as,  you  know,  we  can  revive 
it  when  we  please.  There,  there  is  food  for  medi- 
tation !  Your  reflections,  as  you  understand  the 
subject  better  than  I  do,  will  go  further  than  mine 
could.  Will  the  French  you  converse  with  be  civil 
and  keep  their  countenances? 

George  Darner  t'  other  day  proclaimed  your  de- 
parture for  the  25th;  but  the  Duchess  of  Richmond 
received  a  whole  cargo  of  letters  from  ye  all  on  Fri- 
day night,  which  talk  of  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks 
longer.  Pray  remember  it  is  not  decent  to  be  dan- 
cing at  Paris  when  there  is  a  civil  war  in  your  own 
country.  You  would  be  like  the  country  squire  who 
passed  by  with  his  hounds  as  the  battle  of  Edgehill 
began. 


XLVII. 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  WAR  WITH   AMERICA. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Jan.  25,  1775. 
THE  Duke  of  Gloucester  is  very  ill.  Had  I  be- 
gun my  letter  last  night,  I  should  have  said,  ex- 
tremely ill.  It  was  reported  and  believed  that  he 
was  dead ;  but  he  slept  eight  hours  last  night,  and 
his  pulse  was  better  this  morning.  The  physicians, 
who  gave  no  hopes  yesterday,  say  to-night  that  they 


154        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

never  saw  any  mortal  symptoms.  Be  assured  they 
speak  as  little  truth  of  the  past  as  they  know  of  what 
is  to  come.  The  Duke  has  been  declining  this 
month ;  and  he  was  ordered  to  go  abroad  immedi- 
ately, but  delayed  —  and  now  is  not  able  to  go.  I 
hope  in  God  he  will  get  strength  enough  —  I  wish 
him  abroad  for  every  reason.  The  other  Duke,  his 
brother  [Duke  of  Cumberland],  has  erected  his 
standard  in  opposition,  and  though  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  is  too  wise,  I  trust,  to  take  such  a  part, 
he  would  be  teased  to  death  with  the  politics  of  the 
Luttrels,  and  had  better  be  out  of  the  way. 

The  times  are  indeed  very  serious.  Pacification 
with  America  is  not  the  measure  adopted.  More 
regiments  are  ordered  thither,  and  to-morrow  a  plan, 
I  fear  equivalent  to  a  declaration  of  war,  is  to  be 
laid  before  both  Houses.  They  are  bold  Ministers, 
methinks,  who  do  not  hesitate  on  a  civil  war,  in 
which  victory  may  bring  ruin,  and  disappointment 
endanger  their  heads.  Lord  Chatham  has  already 
spoken  out :  and  though  his  outset  [a  motion  in  the 
Lords  last  Friday]  was  neither  wise  nor  successful, 
he  will  certainly  be  popular  again  with  the  clamorous 
side,  which  no  doubt  will  become  the  popular  side 
too,  for  all  wars  are  costly,  and  consequently  griev- 
ous. Acquisition  alone  can  make  those  burdens 
palatable ;  and  in  a  war  with  our  own  Colonies  we 
must  afflict  instead  of  acquiring  them,  and  cannot 
recover  them  without  having  undone  them.  I  am 
still  to  learn  wisdom  and  experience,  if  these  things 
are  not  so. 

I  thank  you  much  for  the  opera  of  the  Conclave. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         155 

It  loses  greatly  of  its  spirit  by  my  unacquaintance 
with  the  dramatis  persona.  By  the  duration  of  the 
interregnum,  I  suppose  there  is  a  difficulty  of  choos- 
ing between  the  Crowns  and  the  Jesuits;  and  the 
Cardinals  more  afraid  of  poison  from  the  latter,  than 
of  the  menaces  of  the  former.  Though  old  folks 
are  not  less  ambitious  than  young,  they  have  greater 
aversion  to  arsenic.  But  seriously,  is  it  not  amazing 
that  the  Jesuits  can  still  exist,  when  their  last  crime1 
was  sufficient  to  have  drawn  down  vengeance  on 
them,  if  they  had  not  been  proscribed  before? 

We  have  no  news  of  ordinary  calibre ;  but  per- 
haps I  grow  too  old  to  learn  the  lesser  anecdotes  of 
the  town.  I  scarce  ever  go  to  public  places,  and 
live  only  with  people  who  have  turned  the  corner  of 
adventures.  Indeed  in  this  country  there  is  some- 
thing so  singular  and  so  new  in  most  characters  that 
all  the  world  hears  the  history  of  the  most  remark- 
able performers.  The  winter  is  young  yet ;  I  dare 
to  say  it  will  not  long  be  barren. 


XLVIII. 

ON  A  PERFORMANCE  OF  JEPHSON'S  "  BRAGANZA." 
To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Feb.  18,  1775. 
"  BRAGANZA  "  was  acted  last  night  with  prodigious 
success.     The  audience,  the  most  impartial  I  ever 
saw,  sat  mute  for  two  acts,  and  seemed  determined 
1  Of  poisoning  Pope  GanganellL 


156        LETTERS   OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

to  judge  for  themselves,  and  not  be  the  dupes  of 
the  encomiums  that  had  been  so  lavishly  trumpeted. 
At  the  third  act  they  grew  pleased  and  interested ; 
at  the  fourth  they  were  cooled  and  deadened  by  two 
unnecessary  scenes;  but  at  the  catastrophe  in  the 
fifth  they  were  transported.    They  clapped,  shouted, 
huzzaed,  cried  bravo,  and  thundered  out  applause 
both  at  the  end,  and  when  given  out  again ;  yet  the 
action   was   not  worthy  of  the  poet.     Mrs.  Yates 
shone  in  the  dignified  scenes,  but  had  not  variety 
enough  ;  Smith,  recalling  Garrick  in  Richard  III., 
played  the  Viceroy  with  great  spirit ;  but  Reddish 
was  pitiful  and  whining  in  the  Duke ;   Aikin  ridicu- 
lous in  the  first  old  conspirator,  and  the  Friar  totally 
insignificant,  though  engaged  in  the  principal  scene 
in  the  play,  where  indeed  he  has  too  little  to  say. 
The  charming  beauties  of  the  poetry  were  not  yet 
discovered,  and  the  faults  in  the  conduct  may  be 
easily  mended.     In  short,  I  trust,  if  this  tragedy 
does  not  inspire  better  writers,  that  it  will  at  least 
preserve  the  town  from  hearing  with  patience  the 
stuff  we  have  had  for  these  fifty  years.     There  was 
an  excellent  prologue  written  by  Murphy.     For  my 
poor  epilogue,  though  well  delivered  by  Mrs.  Yates, 
it  appeared  to  me  the  flattest  thing  I  ever  heard, 
and  the  audience  were  very  good  in  not  groaning  at 
it.     I  wish  it  could  be  spoken  no  more.     The  boxes 
are  all  taken  for  five  and  twenty  nights,  which  are 
more  than  it  can  be  acted  this  season. 

I  went  to  the  rehearsal  with  all  the  eagerness  of 
eighteen,  and  was  delighted  to  feel  myself  so  young 
again.  The  actors  diverted  me  with  their  dissatis- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         157 

factions  and  complaints,  and  though  I  said  all  I 
could,  committed  some  of  what  they  call  proprieties 
that  were  very  improper,  as  seating  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  on  a  high  throne,  in  the  second  act,  which 
made  the  spectators  conclude  that  the  revolution,  as 
I  knew  they  would,  had  happened.  The  scenes  and 
dresses  were  well  imagined,  and  the  stage  hand- 
somely crowded.  All  this  was  wanted,  for  from  the 
defect  in  the  subject,  which  calls  for  but  two  acts, 
several  scenes  languished.  A  little  more  knowledge 
of  the  stage  in  the  author  may  prevent  this  in  his 
future  plays.  For  his  poetry,  it  is  beautiful  to  the 
highest  degree.  He  has  another  fault,  which  is  a 
want  of  quick  dialogue ;  there  is  scarce  ever  a  short 
speech,  so  that  it  will  please  more  on  reading,  than 
in  representation.  I  will  send  it  to  you  the  mo- 
ment it  is  published. 

There  is  nothing  else  new,  nor  do  I  hear  of  any- 
thing coming.  The  war  with  America  goes  on 
briskly ;  that  is,  as  far  as  voting  goes.  A  great  ma- 
jority in  both  Houses  is  as  brave  as  a  mob  ducking 
a  pickpocket.  They  flatter  themselves  they  shall 
terrify  the  Colonies  into  submission  in  three  months, 
and  are  amazed  to  hear  that  there  is  no  such  prob- 
ability. They  might  as  well  have  excommunicated 
them,  and  left  it  to  the  devil  to  put  the  sentence 
into  execution. 

Good  night,  and  write  to  me. 


158        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


XLIX. 
ON   MASON'S  LIFE  OF  GRAY. 

To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  April  3,  1775. 
WELL  !  your  book  [Memoirs  of  Gray]  is  walk- 
ing the  town  in  midday.  How  it  is  liked,  I  do  not 
yet  know.  Were  I  to  judge  from  my  own  feelings, 
I  should  say  there  never  was  so  entertaining  or  in- 
teresting a  work,  that  it  is  the  most  perfect  model 
of  biography,  and  must  make  Tacitus,  and  Agricola 
too,  detest  you.  But  as  the  world  and  simple  I  are 
not  often  of  the  same  opinion,  it  will  perhaps  be 
thought  very  dull.  If  it  is,  all  we  can  do  is  to 
appeal  to  that  undutiful  urchin,  Posterity,  who  com- 
monly treats  the  judgment  of  its  parents  with  con- 
tempt, though  it  has  so  profound  a  veneration  for 
its  most  distant  ancestors.  As  you  have  neither  im- 
itated the  teeth-breaking  diction  of  Johnson,  nor 
coined  slanders  against  the  most  virtuous  names  in 
story,  like  modern  historians  [Dalrymple  and  Mac- 
pherson],  you  cannot  expect  to  please  the  reigning 
taste.  Few  persons  have  had  time,  from  their  poli- 
tics, diversions,  and  gaming,  to  have  read  much  of 
so  large  a  volume,  which  they  wili  keep  for  the 
summer,  when  they  have  full  as  much  of  nothing  to 
do.  Such  as  love  poetry,  or  think  themselves  poets, 
will  have  hurried  to  the  verses  and  been  disap- 
pointed at  not  finding  half  a  dozen  more  Elegies  in 
a  Churchyard.  A  few  fine  gentlemen  will  have  read 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         159 

one  or  two  of  the  shortest  letters,  which  not  being 
exactly  such  as  they  write  themselves,  they  will  dis- 
like or  copy  next  post ;  they  who  wish  or  intend  to 
find  fault  with  Gray,  you,  or  even  me,  have,  to  be 
sure,  skimmed  over  the  whole,  except  the  Latin,  for 
even  spite,  non  est  tanti — .  The  Reviewers,  no 
doubt,  are  already  writing  against  you,  —  not  because 
they  have  read  the  whole,  but  because  one's  own 
name  is  always  the  first  thing  that  strikes  one  in  a 
book.  The  Scotch  will  be  more  deliberate,  but  not 
less  angry  j  and  if  not  less  angry,  not  more  merciful. 
Every  Hume,  however  spelled,  will  I  don't  know 
what  do  ;  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  able  to  guess  what. 
I  have  already  been  asked  why  I  did  not  prevent  pub- 
lication of  the  censure  on  David.  The  truth  is  (as 
you  know)  I  never  saw  the  whole  together  till  now, 
and  not  that  part ;  and  if  I  had,  why  ought  I  to  have 
prevented  it?  Voltaire  will  cast  an  imbelle  javelin 
sine  ictu  at  Gray,  for  he  loves  to  depreciate  a  dead 
great  author,  even  when  unprovoked,  —  even  when 
he  has  commended  him  alive,  or  before  he  was  so 
vain  and  so  envious  as  he  is  now.  The  Rousseau,- 
rians  will  imagine  that  I  interpolated  the  condemna- 
tion of  his  Eloi'se.  In  short,  we  shall  have  many  sins 
laid  to  our  charge,  of  which  we  are  innocent ;  but 
what  can  the  malicious  say  against  the  innocent  but 
what  is  not  true? 

I  am  here  in  brunt  to  the  storm ;  you^  sit  serenely 
aloof,  and  smile  at  its  sputtering.  So  should  I  too, 
were  I  out  of  sight,  but  I  hate  to  be  stared  at, 
and  the  object  of  whispers  before  my  face.  The 
Maccaronis  will  laugh  out,  for  you  say  I  am  still  in 


160        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

the  fashionable  world.  "  What !  "  they  will  cry,  as 
they  read  while  their  hair  is  curling,  — "  that  old 
soul ;  "  for  "  old  "  and  "  old-fashioned  "  are  synony- 
mous in  the  vocabulary  of  mode,  alas  !  Nobody  is  so 
sorry  as  I  to  be  in  the  world's  fashionable  purlieus ; 
still,  in  truth,  all  this  is  a  joke,  and  touches  me  little. 
I  seem  to  myself  a  Struldbrug,  who  have  lived  past 
my  time,  and  see  almost  my  own  life  written  before 
my  face  while  I  am  yet  upon  earth,  and  as  it  were 
the  only  one  of  my  contemporaries  with  whom  I 
began  the  world.  Well,  in  a  month's  time  there 
will  be  little  question  of  Gray,  and  less  of  me. 
America  and  feathers  and  masquerades  will  drive 
us  into  libraries ;  and  there  I  am  well  content  to 
live  as  an  humble  companion  to  Gray  and  you,  — 
and,  thank  my  stars,  not  on  the  same  shelf  with  the 
Macphersons  and  Dalrymples. 

One  omission  I  have  found,  at  which  I  wonder : 
you  do  not  mention  Gray's  study  of  physic,  of  which 
he  had  read  much,  and  I  doubt  to  his  hurt.  I  had 
not  seen  till  now  that  delightful  encomium  on  Cam- 
bridge, when  empty  of  its  inhabitants.  It  is  as 
good  as  anything  in  the  book,  and  has  that  true 
humor  which  I  think  equal  to  any  of  his  excel- 
lencies. So  has  the  apostrophe  to  Nicholls,  "  Why, 
you  monster,  I  shall  never  be  dirty  and  amused  as 
long  as  I  live ;  "  but  I  will  not  quote  any  more, 
though  I  shall  be  reading  it  and  reading  it  for  the 
rest  of  my  life. 

But  come,  here  is  a  task  you  must  perform,  and 
forthwith ;  and  if  you  will  not  write  to  me,  you  shall 
transcribble  to  me,  or  I  will  combustle  you.  Send 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         161 

me  incontinently  all  the  proper  names  that  are 
omitted.  You  know  how  I  love  writing  marginal 
notes  in  my  books,  and  there  is  not  a  word  in  or 
out  of  the  book  of  which  I  will  be  ignorant.  To 
save  you  trouble,  here  is  a  list  of  who  is's.  Page 
152,  fill  up  the  asterisks;  do.  p.  174;  do.  206;  do. 
232  ;  249,  Peer  who  is  it?  250?  do.;  the  Lady  of 
Quality?  251;  the  leader,  275;  who  the  asterisk, 
282?  the  Dr.  who,  283?  do.  284;  the  B.'s  and  E.'s 
288, where,  whose  is  Stratton?  290,  Lord? 

You  see  my  queries  are  not  very  numerous.  If 
you  do  not  answer  them  I  will  not  tell  you  a  syllable 
of  what  the  fashionable  say  of  your  book,  and  I  do 
not  believe  you  have  another  correspondent  amongst 
them.  At  present  they  are  laboring  through  a  very 
short  work,  more  peculiarly  addressed  to  them,  at 
least  to  a  respectable  part  of  them,  the  Jockey-Club, 
who,  to  the  latter's  extreme  surprise,  have  been  con- 
sulted on  a  point  of  honor  by  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  which, 
however,  he  has  already  decided  himself  with  as 
little  conscience  as  they  could  do  in  their  most 
punctilious  moments. 

If  you  will  satisfy  me,  I  will  tell  you  the  following 
bon-mot  of  Foote,  but  be  sure  you  don't  read  what 
follows  till  you  have  obeyed  my  commands.  Foote 
was  at  Paris  in  October,  when  Dr.  Murray  was,  who 
admiring  or  dreading  his  wit  (for  commentators  dis- 
pute on  the  true  reading)  often  invited  him  to  din- 
ner with  his  nephew.  The  ambassador  produced  a 
very  small  bottle  of  Tokay,  and  dispensed  it  in  very 
small  glasses.  The  uncle,  to  prove  how  precious 
every  drop,  said  it  was  of  the  most  exquisite  growth, 


1 62        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

and  very  old.  Foote,  taking  up  the  diminutive  glass, 
and  examining  it,  replied,  "  It  is  very  little  of  its 
age."  Return  me  my  story  if  you  don't  perform 
the  conditions.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  anybody's 
else  life  to  write  ! 


CHARM  OF    MADAME  DE    SfiVIGNfi'S  LETTERS. -THE 
AMERICAN   WAR. 

To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug.  7,  1775. 
LET  me  tell  you  you  have  no  more  taste  than 
Dr.  Kenrick  if  you  do  not  like  Madame  de  Se- 
vigne"'s  Letters.  Read  them  again ;  they  are  one 
of  the  very  few  books  that,  like  Gray's  Life,  im- 
prove upon  one  every  time  one  reads  them.  You 
have  still  less  taste  if  you  like  my  letters,  which 
have  nothing  original;  and  if  they  have  anything 
good,  so  much  the  worse,  for  it  can  only  be  from 
having  read  her  letters  and  his.  He  came  perfect 
out  of  the  eggshell,  and  wrote  as  well  at  eighteen 
as  ever  he  did,  —  nay,  letters  better ;  for  his  natural 
humor  was  in  its  bloom,  and  not  wrinkled  by  low 
spirits,  dissatisfaction,  or  the  character  he  had  as- 
sumed. I  do  not  care  a  straw  whether  Dr.  Ken- 
rick  and  Scotland  can  persuade  England  that  he  was 
no  poet.  There  is  no  common-sense  left  in  this 
country,  — 

"  With  Arts  and  Sciences  it  travelled  West." 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         163 

The  Americans  will  admire  him  and  you,  and 
they  are  the  only  people  by  whom  one  would  wish 
to  be  admired.  The  world  is  divided  into  two  na- 
tions, —  men  of  sense  that  will  be  free,  and  fools  that 
like  to  be  slaves.  What  a  figure  do  two  great  em- 
pires make  at  this  moment !  Spain,  mistress  of  Peru 
and  Mexico,  amazes  Europe  with  an  invincible  ar- 
mada; at  last  it  sails  to  Algiers,  and  disbarks  its 
whole  contents,  even  to  the  provisions  of  the  fleet. 
It  is  beaten  shamefully,  loses  all  its  stores,  and  has 
scarce  bread  left  to  last  till  it  gets  back  into  its  own 
ports ! 

Mrs.  Britannia  orders  her  senate  to  proclaim  Amer- 
ica a  continent  of  cowards,  and  vote  it  should  be 
starved  unless  it  will  drink  tea  with  her.  She  sends 
her  only  army  to  be  besieged  in  one  of  their  towns, 
and  half  her  fleet  to  besiege  the  terra  firma ;  but 
orders  her  army  to  do  nothing,  in  hopes  that  the 
American  senate  at  Philadelphia  will  be  so  frightened 
at  the  British  army  being  besieged  in  Boston  that 
it  will  sue  for  peace.  At  last  she  gives  her  army 
leave  to  sally  out;  but  being  twice  defeated,  she 
determines  to  carry  on  the  war  so  vigorously,  till  she 
has  not  a  man  left,  that  all  England  will  be  satisfied 
with  the  total  loss  of  America  !  And  if  everybody  is 
satisfied,  who  can  be  blamed?  Besides,  is  not  our 
dignity  maintained?  have  not  we  carried  our  ma- 
jesty beyond  all  example?  When  did  you  ever  read 
before  of  a  besieged  army  threatening  military  exe- 
cution on  the  country  of  the  besiegers  ?  —  car  tel  est 
notre  plaisir !  But,  alack  !  we  are  like  the  mock 
Doctor,  —  we  have  made  the  heart  and  the  liver 


1 64        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

change  sides;  cela  etait  autrefois  ainsi,  mais  nous 
avons  change  tout  cela! 


LI. 

AMERICA  AND  THE  ADMINISTRATION. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

PARIS,  Sept.  7,  1775. 

YOUR  letter  of  August  1 2  followed  me  hither  from 
England.  I  can  answer  it  from  hence  with  less 
reserve  than  I  should  at  home.  I  understand  very 
well,  my  dear  sir,  the  propriety  of  the  style  in  which 
you  write  in  your  ministerial  capacity,  and  never 
wish  to  have  you  expose  yourself  to  any  inconve- 
nience by  unnecessary  frankness.  I  am  too  much 
convinced  of  your  heart  and  head  not  swerving  from 
the  glorious  principles  in  which  we  were  both  edu- 
cated, to  suspect  you  of  having  adopted  the  princi- 
ples instilled  into  so  many  Englishmen  by  Scotch 
Jacobites,  the  authors  of  the  present,  as  they  have 
been  of  every,  civil  war  since  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  You  will  on  your  side  not  be  surprised 
that  I  am  what  I  always  was,  a  zealot  for  liberty  in 
every  part  of  the  globe,  and  consequently  that  I 
most  heartily  wish  success  to  the  Americans.  They 
have  hitherto  not  made  one  blunder;  and  the  ad- 
ministration have  made  a  thousand,  besides  the  two 
capital  ones  of  first  provoking  and  then  of  uniting 
the  Colonies.  The  latter  seem  to  have  as  good 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         165 

heads  as  hearts,  as  we  want  both.  The  campaign 
seems  languishing.  The  Ministers  will  make  all 
their  efforts  against  the  spring.  So  no  doubt  will 
the  Americans  too.  Probably  the  war  will  be  long. 
On  the  side  of  England,  it  must  be  attended  with 
ruin.  If  England  prevails,  English  and  American 
liberty  is  at  an  end;  if  the  Colonies  prevail,  our 
commerce  is  gone ;  and  if,  at  last,  we  negotiate, 
they  will  neither  forgive  nor  give  us  our  former 
advantages. 

The  country  where  I  now  am  is,  luckily,  neither 
in  a  condition  or  disposition  to  meddle.  If  it  did, 
it  would  complete  our  destruction,  even  by  only 
assisting  the  Colonies,  which  I  can  scarce  think  they 
are  blind  enough  not  to  do.  They  openly  talk  of 
our  tyranny  and  folly  with  horror  and  contempt,  and 
perhaps  with  amazement ;  and  so  does  almost  every 
foreign  Minister  here,  as  well  as  every  Frenchman. 
Instead  of  being  mortified,  as  I  generally  am  when 
my  country  is  depreciated,  I  am  comforted  by  find- 
ing that,  though  but  one  of  very  few  in  England,  the 
sentiments  of  the  rest  of  the  world  concur  with  and 
confirm  mine.  The  people  with  us  are  fascinated ; 
and  what  must  we  be  when  Frenchmen  are  shocked 
at  our  despotic  acts  !  Indeed,  both  this  nation  and 
their  king  seem  to  embrace  the  most  generous  prin- 
ciples, —  the  only  fashion,  I  doubt,  in  which  we  shall 
not  imitate  them  !  Too  late  our  eyes  will  open. 

The  Duke  and  Duchess1  [of  Gloucester]  are  at 
Venice.  Nothing  ever  exceeded  the  distinctions 

1  Walpole's  niece,  formerly  Countess  of  Waldegrave,  now 
Duchess  of  Gloucester. 


1 66        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

paid  to  them  in  this  country.  The  king  even  in- 
vited  them  to  Paris;  but  the  Duke's  haste  to  be 
more  southerly  before  the  bad  weather  begins,  would 
not  permit  him  to  accept  of  that  honor.  They  do 
not  expect  the  same  kindness  everywhere ;  and  for 
the  English,  they  have  even  let  the  French  see  what 
slaves  they  are,  by  not  paying  their  duty  to  the  Duke 
and  Duchess.  I  have  written  to  her,  without  nam- 
ing you,  to  dissuade  their  fixing  at  Rome,  —  I  fear 
in  vain.  I  proposed  Sienna  to  them,  as  I  flatter 
myself  the  Emperor's  goodness  for  the  Duke  would 
dispose  the  Great  Duke  to  make  it  agreeable  to 
them ;  and  their  residence  there  would  not  commit 
you.  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe  you  suspect  me  of 
sacrificing  you  to  the  interests  of  my  family.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  wish  you,  for  your  own  sake,  to 
take  any  opportunities  of  paying  your  court  to  them 
indirectly.  They  are  both  warm  and  hurt  at  the 
indignities  they  have  received.  In  our  present  dis- 
tracted situation,  it  is  more  than  possible  that  the 
Duke  may  be  a  very  important  personage.  I  know 
well  that  you  have  had  full  reason  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  him ;  I  remember  it  as  much  as  you  can  :  but 
you  are  too  prudent,  as  well  as  too  good-natured, 
not  to  forgive  a  young  prince.  I  own  I  am  in  pain 
about  the  Duchess.  She  has  all  the  good  qualities 
of  her  father  [Sir  Edward  Walpole],  but  all  his  im- 
petuosity; and  is  much  too  apt  to  resent  affronts, 
though  her  virtue  and  good-nature  make  her  as 
easily  reconciled :  but  her  first  movements  are  not 
discreet.  I  wish  you  to  please  her  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, within  your  instructions.  She  has  admirable 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.        167 

sense,  when  her  passions  do  not  predominate.  In 
one  word,  her  marriage  has  given  me  many  a  pang ; 
and  though  I  never  gave  into  it,  I  endeavor  by 
every  gentle  method  to  prevent  her  making  her 
situation  still  worse ;  and  above  all  things,  I  try 
never  to  inflame.  It  is  all  I  can  do  where  I  have 
no  ascendant,  which,  with  a  good  deal  of  spirit  of 
my  own,  I  cannot  expect :  however,  as  I  perfectly 
understand  both  my  parties  and  myself,  I  manage 
pretty  well.  I  know  when  to  stoop  and  when  to 
stop ;  and  when  I  will  stoop  or  will  not.  I  should 
not  be  so  pliant  if  they  were  where  they  ought 
to  be. 

Lord  Chatham  when  I  left  England  was  in  a  very 
low,  languishing  way,  his  constitution,  I  believe,  too 
much  exhausted  to  throw  out  the  gout ;  and  then  it 
falls  on  his  spirits.  The  last  letters  speak  of  his 
case  as  not  desperate.  He  might,  if  allowed  —  and 
it  was  practicable  —  do  much  good  still.  Who  else 
can,  I  know  not.  The  Opposition  is  weak  every 
way.  They  have  better  hearts  than  the  Ministers, 
fewer  good  heads,  —  not  that  I  am  in  admiration  of 
the  latter.  Times  may  produce  men.  We  must 
trust  to  the  book  of  events,  if  we  will  flatter  our- 
selves. Make  no  answer  to  this;  only  say  you 
received  my  letter  from  Paris,  and  direct  to  Eng- 
land. I  may  stay  here  a  month  longer,  but  it  is 
uncertain. 

\\tJi. 

P.  S.  —  I  had  made  up  my  letter ;  but  those  I  re- 
ceived from  England  last  night  bring  such  important 


1 68        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

intelligence,  I  must  add  a  paragraph.  That  miracle 
of  gratitude,  the  Czarina,  has  consented  to  lend 
England  twenty  thousand  Russians,  to  be  transported 
to  America.  The  Parliament  is  to  meet  on  the  2Oth 
of  next  month,  and  vote  twenty-six  thousand  sea- 
men !  What  a  paragraph  of  blood  is  there  !  With 
what  torrents  must  liberty  be  preserved  in  America  ! 
In  England,  what  can  save  it?  Oh,  mad,  mad 
England  !  What  frenzy,  to  throw  away  its  treasures, 
lay  waste  its  empire  of  wealth,  and  sacrifice  its  free- 
dom, that  its  prince  may  be  the  arbitrary  lord  of 
boundless  deserts  in  America,  and  of  an  impover- 
ished, depopulated,  and  thence  insignificant,  island 
in  Europe  !  And  what  prospect  of  comfort  has  a 
true  Englishman?  Why,  that  Philip  II.  miscarried 
against  the  boors  of  Holland,  and  that  Louis  XIV. 
could  not  replace  James  II.  on  the  throne  ! 


III. 

MISERABLE  SITUATION  OF  ENGLAND. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

PARIS,  Oct.  10,  1775. 

I  AM  still  here,  though  on  the  wing.  Your  answer 
to  mine  from  hence  was  sent  back  to  me  from  Eng- 
land, as  I  have  loitered  here  beyond  my  intention, — 
in  truth,  from  an  indisposition  of  mind.  I  am  not 
impatient  to  be  in  a  frantic  country  that  is  stabbing 
itself  in  every  vein.  The  delirium  still  lasts,  though, 


LETTERS   OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         169 

I  believe,  kept  up  by  the  quacks  that  caused  it.  Is 
it  credible  that  five  or  six  of  the  great  trading  towns 
have  presented  addresses  against  the  Americans  ?  I 
have  no  doubt  but  those  addresses  are  procured  by 
those  boobies,  the  country  gentlemen,  their  members, 
and  bought  of  the  aldermen ;  but  is  it  not  amazing 
that  the  merchants  and  manufacturers  do  not  duck 
such  tools  in  a  horse-pond?  When  the  storm  will 
recoil  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  will  be  terrible  in  all 
probability,  though  too  late.  Never  shall  we  be 
again  what  we  have  been  !  Other  Powers,  who  sit 
still,  and  wisely  suffer  us  to  plunge  over  head  and 
ears,  will  perhaps  be  alarmed  at  what  they  write 
from  England,  that  we  are  to  buy  twenty  thousand 
Russian  assassins,  at  the  price  of  Georgia.  How 
deep  must  be  our  game  when  we  pursue  it  at  the 
expense  of  establishing  a  new  maritime  power,  and 
aggrandize  that  engrossing  throne,  which  threatens 
half  Europe,  for  the  satisfaction  of  enslaving  our  own 
brethren !  Horrible  policy !  If  the  Americans,  as 
our  papers  say,  are  on  the  point  of  seizing  Canada, 
I  should  think  that  France  would  not  long  remain 
neuter,  when  she  may  regain  her  fur-trade  with  the 
Canadians,  or  obtain  Canada  from  the  Americans. 
But  it  is  endless  to  calculate  what  we  may  lose. 
Our  Court  has  staked  everything  against  despotism, 
and  the  nation,  which  must  be  a  loser,  whichever 
side  prevails,  takes  part  against  the  Americans,  who 
fight  for  the  nation  as  well  as  for  themselves.  What 
Egyptian  darkness  ! 

This  country  is  far  more  happy.     It  is  governed 
by  benevolent  and  beneficent  men,  under  a  prince 


170        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

who  has  not  yet  betrayed  a  fault,  and  who  will  be  as 
happy  as  his  people  if  he  always  employs  such  men. 
Messieurs  de  Turgot  and  Malesherbes  are  philoso- 
phers in  the  true  sense,  —  that  is,  legislators ;  but  as 
their  plans  tend  to  serve  the  public,  you  may  be 
sure  they  do  not  please  interested  individuals.  The 
French,  too,  are  light  and  fickle;  and  designing 
men,  who  have  no  weapon  against  good  men  but 
ridicule,  already  employ  it  to  make  a  trifling  nation 
laugh  at  its  benefactors :  and  if  it  is  the  fashion  to 
laugh,  the  laws  of  fashion  will  be  executed  preferably 
to  those  of  common-sense. 

There  is  a  great  place  just  vacant.  The  Mare'chal 
de  Muy,  S^cre'taire  d'Etat  pour  la  Guerre,  died 
yesterday,  having  been  cut  the  day  before  for  the 
stone.  The  operation  lasted  thirty-five  ages,  — 
that  is,  minutes. 

Our  Parliament  meets  on  the  26th,  and  I  suppose 
will  act  as  infamously  as  it  did  last  year.  It  cannot 
do  worse,  —  scarcely  so  ill ;  for  now  it  cannot  act 
inconsiderately.  To  joke  in  voting  a  civil  war  is 
the  comble  of  infamy.  I  hope  it  will  present  flatter- 
ing addresses  on  our  disgraces,  and  heap  taxes  on 
those  who  admire  the  necessity  of  them.  If  the 
present  generation  alone  would  be  punished  by 
inviting  the  yoke,  it  were  pity  but  it  were  already 
on  their  necks  !  Do  not  wonder  at  my  indignation, 
nor  at  my  indulging  it.  I  can  write  freely  hence ; 
from  England,  where  I  may  find  the  Inquisition,  it 
would  not  be  so  prudent.  But  judge  of  our  situation 
when  an  Englishman,  to  speak  his  mind,  must  come 
to  France  !  and  hither  I  will  come,  unless  the  times 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         171 

alter.  I  had  rather  live  where  a  Maupeou  [Chan- 
cellor of  France]  is  banished,  than  where  he  is 
Chief  Justice.1 

I  know  nothing  of  their  Royal  Highnesses  [the 
Duke  and  Duchess  of  Gloucester],  nor  have  heard 
of  them  since  they  were  at  Strasburg.  I  wrote 
twice  to  Venice ;  and  if  they  think  me  in  England, 
and  have  written  thither,  I  should  have  received  the 
letter,  as  I  did  yours,  unless  it  is  stopped.  I  can 
give  you  no  advice,  but  to  act  prudently  and 
decently,  as  you  always  do.  If  you  receive  orders, 
you  must  obey  them  ;  if  you  do  not,  you  may  show 
disposition.  And  yet  I  would  not  go  too  far.  Even 
under  orders  you  may  intimate  concern;  but  I 
would  express  nothing  in  writing.  My  warmth  may 
hurt  myself,  but  never  shall  make  me  forget  the 
interest  of  my  friends.  Adieu  ! 


LIIL 

ON  THE  DECLARATION   OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Aug.  n,  1776. 
I  HAVE  so  little  to  tell  you,  though  perhaps  at  the 
eve  of  so  much,  that  I  shall,  I  think,  only  begin  this 
letter  to  show  you  the  constancy  of  my  attention, 
but  not  send  it  till  it  is  fuller. 

You  have  seen   by  the    public  newspapers  that 
General  Carleton  has  driven  the  provincials  out  of 
all  Canada.     It  is  well    he   fights   better   than   he 
i  Alluding  to  Lord  Mansfield. 


172        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

writes  !  General  Conway  has  constantly  said  that  he 
would  do  great  service.  The  provincials  revenge 
themselves  on  our  ships,  took  nine  Jamaica-men  at 
once,  and  have  just  taken  two  transports  with 
troops,  besides  half  or  three  quarters  starving  out 
West  India  Islands.  General  Howe  has  left  Halifax 
since  the  beginning  of  June,  on  an  expedition. 
Nearly  a  fortnight  ago  he  was  heard  of  off  New 
York,  and  great  anxiety  was  afloat  to  know  farther. 
Yesterday  came  letters  that  he  had  landed  on  an 
island  near,  without  molestation,  but  learned  that  the 
opposite  coast  was  covered  with  an  hundred  cannon, 
behind  which  lay  a  strong  army  intrenched  up  to 
their  eyes.  This  does  not  diminish  the  anxiety  for 
the  event.  His  brother,  the  peer,  had  not  joined 
him.  Not  that  there  are  appearances  promising 
negotiation.  The  Congress  has  declared  all  the 
provinces  independent,  has  condemned  the  Mayor 
of  New  York  to  be  hanged  for  corresponding  with 
their  enemies,  and  have  seized  Franklin,  —  not  the 
famous  doctor,  but  one  of  the  king's  governors.  I 
hope  this  savage  kind  of  war  will  not  proceed ;  but 
they  seem  to  be  very  determined,  and  that  makes 
the  prospect  very  melancholy. 

I  have  been  much  alarmed  lately  about  General 
Conway,  who  by  a  sudden  cold  had  something  of 
a  paralytic  stroke  in  the  face ;  but  as  it  did  not 
affect  his  speech  or  health,  and  is  almost  disap- 
peared, I  am  much  easier.  He  is  uneasy  himself, 
with  reason,  about  his  daughter.1  Her  husband 

1  The  Honorable  Ann  Seymour  Conway  Darner,  of  whom 
Walpole  was  especially  fond.  On  his  death  he  devised 
Strawberry  Hill  to  her  for  life. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         173 

and  his  two  brothers  have  contracted  a  debt  —  one 
can  scarcely  expect  to  be  believed  out  of  England 
—  of  seventy  thousand  pounds !  Who  but  must 
think  himself  happy  to  marry  a  daughter  with  only 
ten  thousand  pounds  to  a  young  man  with  five 
thousand  pounds  a  year  rent-charge  in  present,  and 
twenty-two  thousand  a  year  settled  ?  And  yet  this 
daughter  at  present  is  ruined  !  Her  behavior  is  such 
as  her  father's  would  be ;  she  does  not  only  not 
complain,  but  desires  her  very  own  jewels  may  be 
sold.  The  young  men  of  this  age  seem  to  have 
made  a  law  amongst  themselves  for  declaring  their 
fathers  superannuated  at  fifty,  and  then  dispose  of 
the  estates  as  if  already  their  own. 

How  culpable  to  society  was  Lord  Holland  for 
setting  an  example  of  paying  such  enormous,  such 
gigantic  debts  !  Can  you  believe  that  Lord  Foley's 
two  sons  have  borrowed  money  so  extravagantly 
that  the  interest  they  have  contracted  to  pay 
amounts  to  eighteen  thousand  pounds  a  year?  I 
write  the  sum  at  length,  lest  you  should  think  I 
have  mistaken,  and  set  down  two  or  three  figures 
too  much.  The  legislature  sits  quiet,  and  says  it 
cannot  put  a  stop  to  such  outrageous  doings;  but 
thus  is  it  punished  for  winking  at  the  plunder  of 
the  Indies,  which  cannot  suffice.  Our  Jews  and 
usurers  continue  to  lounge  at  home,  and  commit  as 
much  rapine  as  Lord  Clive  ! 

Wednesday,  itfA. 

As  I  doubt  whether  we  shall  hear  any  considera- 
ble news  soon,  I  have  determined  to  send  away  this 


174        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

letter,  lest  it  should  be  superannuated.  The  Ga- 
zette has  already  got  the  start  of  it,  and  told  you 
all  it  pretended  to  tell.  In  truth,  my  letters  are 
little  more  than  companions  of  the  newspapers,  or 
at  best  evidences  for  their  veracity,  which  they  want. 
It  is  incredible  how  both  sides  lie  about  the  Amer- 
ican war.  Even  that  laconic  personage  the  Gazette 
has  been  known  to  fib,  and  always  takes  care  not  to 
tell  a  syllable  of  bad  news.  I  live  here  alone,  and 
never  hear  any  but  with  all  the  world.*  Whenever 
this  war  shall  end,  I  believe  it  will  be  very  new; 
for  except  two  or  three  great  facts,  I  question 
whether  we,  the  public,  know  anything  of  the 
matter. 


LIV. 

ON  THE  SUICIDE  OF  MR.  DAMER. 
To  Lady  Ossory. 

August    1 6,  1776. 


I  BEGAN  this  yesterday,  and  was  interrupted.  To- 
day I  have  heard  the  shocking  news  of  Mr.  Darner's 
death,  who  shot  himself  yesterday,  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  at  a  tavern  in  Covent  Garden.  My 
first  alarm  was  for  Mr.  Conway,  not  knowing  what 
effect  such  a  horrid  surprise  would  have  on  him, 
scarce  recovered  from  an  attack  himself;  happily  it 
proves  his  nerves  were  not  affected,  for  I  have  had 
a  very  calm  letter  from  him  on  the  occasion.  They 
have  sent  for  me  to  town,  and  I  shall  go  to-morrow 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         175 

morning.  Mr.  Charles  Fox,  with  infinite  good- 
nature, met  Mrs.  Darner  coming  to  town,  and 
stopped  her  to  prepare  her  for  the  dismal  event. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  refrain  from  bursting  out 
into  common-place  reflections  on  this  occasion; 
but  can  the  walls  of  Almack's  help  moralizing, 
when  ^5000  a  year  in  present,  and  ^22,000  in 
reversion  are  not  sufficient  for  happiness,  and 
cannot  check  a  pistol? 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  think  I  do  not 
wish  Lord  Ossory  a  son,  or  Lady  Anne  greatly  mar- 
ried !  What  a  distracted  nation  !  I  do  not  wonder 
Dr.  Battie  died  worth  ^100,000.  Will  anybody  be 
worth  a  shilling  but  mad  doctors?  I  could  write 
volumes ;  but  recollect  that  you  are  not  alone,  as  I 
am,  given  up  to  melancholy  ideas,  with  the  rain 
beating  on  the  skylight,  and  gusts  of  wind.  On 
other  nights,  if  I  heard  a  noise,  I  should  think  it 
was  some  desperate  gamester  breaking  open  my 
house ;  now,  every  flap  of  a  door  is  a  pistol.  I 
have  often  said,  this  world  is  a  comedy  to  those 
that  think,  a  tragedy  to  those  that  feel;  but  when 
I  thought  so  first,  I  was  more  disposed  to  smile  than 
to  feel ;  and  besides,  England  was  not  arrived  at  its 
present  pitch  of  frenzy.  I  begin  to  doubt  whether 
I  have  not  lived  in  a  system  of  errors.  All  my 
ideas  are  turned  topsy-turvy.  One  must  go  to 
some  other  country  and  ask  whether  one  has  a  just 
notion  of  anything.  To  me,  everybody  round  me 
seems  lunatic ;  yet  I  think  they  were  sober  and 
wise  folks  from  whom  I  received  all  my  notions  on 
money,  politics,  and  what  not.  Well !  I  will  wait 


176        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

for  the  echo  —  I  know  no  better  oracle.  Good 
night,  madam ;  you  excuse  me  in  any  mood,  and 
therefore  I  will  make  no  apology  for  this  incoherent 
rhapsody.  My  thoughts,  with  those  I  love,  always 
flow  according  to  the  cast  of  the  hour.  A  good 
deal  of  sensibility  and  very  shattered  nerves  expose 
one  to  strong  impressions.  Yet  when  the  sages  of 
this  world  affect  a  tenderness  they  do  not  know, 
may  not  a  little  real  feeling  be  pardoned  ?  It  seems 
Mentor  Duke  of  Montague  had  made  a  vow  of  ever 
wearing  weepers  for  his  vixen  turtle,  and  it  required 
a  jury  of  matrons  and  divines  to  persuade  him  he 
would  not  go  to  the  devil  and  his  wife  if  he  ap- 
peared in  scarlet  and  gold  on  the  Prince's  birth- 
day ;  but  he  is  returned  to  close  mourning,  like 
Hamlet,  and  every  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern 
is  edified  both  ways. 


LV. 

GRAVS  CENOTAPH.  —  MASON 'S  "  CARACTACUS." 

To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Oct.  8,  1776. 
I  ANSWER  your  letter  incontinently,  because  I  am 
charmed  with  your  idea  of  the  cenotaph  for  Gray, 
and  would  not  have  it  wait  a  moment  for  my  appro- 
bation. I  do  not  know  what  my  lines  were,  for  I 
gave  them  to  you,  or  have  burnt  or  lost  them ;  but 
I  am  sure  yours  are  ten  times  better,  as  anything 
must  naturally  be  when  you  and  I  write  on  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         177 

same  subject.  I  prefer  Westminster  Abbey  to 
Stoke  or  Pembroke  chapel,  —  not  because  due  to 
Gray,  whose  genius  does  not  want  any  such  dis- 
tinction, but  as  due  to  Westminster  Abbey,  which 
would  miss  him,  and  to  humble  the  French,  who 
have  never  had  a  Homer  or  a  Pindar,  nor  probably 
will  have,  since  Voltaire  could  make  nothing  more 
like  an  epic  poem  than  the  "  Henriade,"  and 
Boileau  and  Rousseau  have  succeeded  so  little  in 
odes  that  the  French  still  think  that  ballad -wright 
Quinault  their  best  lyric  poet ;  which  shows  how 
much  they  understand  lyric  poetry  !  Voltaire  has 
lately  written  a  letter  against  Shakspeare  (occa- 
sioned by  the  new  paltry  translation,  which  still 
has  discovered  his  miraculous  powers)  ;  and  it  is 
as  downright  Billingsgate  as  an  apple-woman  would 
utter  if  you  overturned  her  wheelbarrow.  Poor 
old  wretch,  how  envy  disgraces  the  brightest 
talents !  How  Gray  adored  Shakspeare  !  Part- 
ridge, the  almanac-maker,  perhaps  was  jealous 
of  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  Dr.  Goldsmith  told  me  he 
himself  envied  Shakspeare ;  but  Goldsmith  was 
an  idiot,  with  once  or  twice  a  fit  of  parts.  It 
hurts  one  when  a  real  genius  like  Voltaire  can 
feel  more  spite  than  admiration ;  though  I  am 
persuaded  that  his  rancor  is  grounded  on  his 
conscious  inferiority.  I  wish  you  would  lash  this 
old  scorpion  a  little,  and  teach  him  awe  of  English 
poets. 

I  can  tell  you  nothing  more  than  you  see  in  the 
common  newspapers.  Impatience  is  open-mouthed 
and  open-eared  for  accounts  from  New  York,  on 

12 


178        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

which  the  attack  was  to  be  made  on  the  26th  of 
August.  Success  there  is  more  necessary  to  keep 
up  credit  than  likely  to  do  more.  Should  it  fail, 
there  is  an  end  of  America  for  England ;  and  if  it 
succeeds,  it  is  at  most  ground  for  another  campaign. 
But  we  choose  not  to  see  till  we  feel,  though  they 
who  have  done  the  mischief  do  not  disguise  their 
apprehensions.  The  colonies  have  an  agent  openly 
at  Versailles,  and  their  ships  are  as  openly  received 
into  their  ports.  But  I  had  rather  talk  of  "  Carac- 
tacus  :  "  I  agree  that  he  will  not  suffer  by  not  being 
sputtered  by  Barry,  who  has  lost  all  his  teeth. 
Covent  Garden  is  rather  above  Drury  Lane  in 
actors,  though  both  sets  are  exceedingly  bad, — 
so  bad  that  I  almost  wish  "  Caractacus  "  was  not 
to  appear.  Very  seldom  do  I  go  to  the  play,  for 
there  is  no  bearing  such  strollers.  I  saw  "  Lear  " 
the  last  time  Garrick  played  it,  and,  as  I  told  him, 
I  was  more  shocked  at  the  rest  of  the  company 
than  pleased  with  him,  —  which  I  believe  was  not 
just  what  he  desired ;  but  to  give  a  greater  bril- 
liancy to  his  own  setting,  he  had  selected  the  very 
worst  performers  of  his  troop, — just  as  Voltaire 
would  wish  there  were  no  better  poets  than  Thom- 
son and  Akenside.  However,  as  "  Caractacus  "  has 
already  been  read,  I  do  not  doubt  but  it  will  suc- 
ceed. It  would  be  a  horrible  injury  to  let  him  be 
first  announced  by  such  unhallowed  mouths.  In 
truth,  the  present  taste  is  in  general  so  vile  that  I 
don't  know  whether  it  is  not  necessary  to  blunt 
real  merit  before  it  can  be  applauded. 

I  have  not  time  to  say  more.    I  can  say  nothing 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          179 

about  law,  but  that  I  always  avoid  it  if  I  can,  —  that 
and  everything  else  wants  reformation;  and  I  be- 
lieve we  shall  have  it  from  that  only  reformer, 
Adversity.  I  wish  I  were  with  you  and  the  good 
Palsgrave,  and  I  always  wish  you  was  with  me. 
Adieu  !  Yours  ever. 


LVI. 

CONCERNING  VOLTAIRE'S  ABUSE  OF   SHAKSPEARE. 
To  Sir  Horace  Matin. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Dec.  i,  1776. 
I  DON'T  know  who  the  Englishwoman  is  of  whom 
you  give  so  ridiculous  a  description,  but  it  will 
suit  thousands.  I  distrust  my  age  continually,  and 
impute  to  it  half  the  contempt  I  feel  for  my 
country  men  and  women.  If  I  think  the  other  half 
well  founded,  it  is  by  considering  what  must  be 
said  hereafter  of  the  present  age.  What  is  to  im- 
press a  great  idea  of  us  on  posterity?  In  truth, 
what  do  our  contemporaries  of  all  other  countries 
think  of  us?  They  stare  at  and  condemn  our 
politics  and  follies ;  and  if  they  retain  any  respect 
for  us,  I  doubt  it  is  for  the  sense  we  have  had.  I 
do  know,  indeed,  one  man  who  still  worships  us ; 
but  his  adoration  is  testified  so  very  absurdly 
as  not  to  do  us  much  credit.  It  is  a  Monsieur 
de  Marchais,  first  valet-de-chambre  to  the  king 
of  France.  He  has  the  anglomanie  so  strong  that 
he  has  not  only  read  more  English  than  French 


180          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

books,  but  if  any  valuable  work  appears  in  his  own 
language  he  waits  to  peruse  it  till  it  is  translated 
into  English ;  and  to  be  sure  our  translations  of 
French  are  admirable  things  ! 

To  do  the  rest  of  the  French  justice,  —  I  mean 
such  as  like  us,  —  they  adopt  only  our  egregious 
follies,  and  in  particular  the  flower  of  them,  horse- 
racing  !  Le  Roi  Pepin,  a  racer,  is  the  horse  in 
fashion.  I  suppose  the  next  shameful  practice  of 
ours  they  naturalize  will  be  the  personal  scurrilities 
in  the  newspapers,  especially  on  young  and  hand- 
some women,  in  which  we  certainly  are  originals  ! 
Voltaire,  who  first  brought  us  into  fashion  in  France, 
is  stark  mad  at  his  own  success.  Out  of  envy  to 
writers  of  his  own  nation  he  cried  up  Shakspeare  ; 
and  now  is  distracted  at  the  just  encomiums  be- 
stowed on  that  first  genius  of  the  world  in  the  new 
translation.  He  sent  to  the  French  Academy  an 
invective  that  bears  all  the  marks  of  passionate 
dotage.  Mrs.  Montagu1  happened  to  be  present 
when  it  was  read.  Suard,  one  of  their  writers,  said 
to  her,  "Je  crois,  madame,  que  vous  etes  un  peu 
faerie1  de  ce  que  vous  venez  d'entendre."  She 
replied,  "  Moi,  monsieur !  point  du  tout !  Je  ne 
suis  pas  amie  de  Monsieur  Voltaire."  I  shall  go 
to  town  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  will  add  a 
postscript,  if  I  hear  any  news. 

Dec.  3</. 

I  am  come  late,  have  seen  nobody,  and  must 
send  away  my  letter. 

'Mrs.  Robinson  Montagu,  who  wrote  the  defence  of 
Shakspeare  against  Voltaire. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          181 
LVII. 

ON  SIR  JOHN   HAWKINS'S   "  HISTORY  OF   MUSIC." 
To   the   Countess   of  Ossory. 

ARLINGTON   STREET,  Dec.  3,  1776. 

I  SHOULD  not  have  waited  for  a  regular  response, 
madam,  if  I  had  not  been  precisely  in  the  same 
predicament  with  your  Ladyship,  —  reduced  to  write 
from  old  books  to  tell  you  anything  new.  I  have 
been  three  days  at  Strawberry,  and  have  not  seen 
a  creature  but  Sir  John  Hawkins's  five  volumes,  the 
last  two  of  which,  thumping  as  they  are,  I  literally 
did  read  in  two  days.  They  are  old  books  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  very  old  books ;  and  what  is 
new  is  like  old  books  too,  —  that  is,  full  of  minute 
facts  that  delight  antiquaries :  nay,  if  there  had 
never  been  such  things  as  parts  and  taste,  this  work 
would  please  everybody.  The  first  volume  is  ex- 
tremely worth  looking  at,  for  the  curious  fac-similes 
of  old  music  and  old  instruments,  and  so  is  the 
second.  The  third  is  very  heavy ;  the  two  last  will 
amuse  you,  I  think,  exceedingly,  —  at  least  they 
do  me. 

My  friend  Sir  John  is  a  matter-of-fact  man,  and 
does  now  and  then  stoop  very  low  in  quest  of  game. 
Then  he  is  so  exceedingly  religious  and  grave  as  to 
abhor  mirth,  except  it  is  printed  in  the  old  black- 
letter;  and  then  he  calls  the  most  vulgar  ballad 
pleasant  and  full  of  humor.  He  thinks  nothing 
can  be  sublime  but  an  anthem,  and  Handel's  cho- 


1 82         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

ruses  heaven  upon  earth.  However,  he  writes  with 
great  moderation,  temper,  and  good  sense,  and  the 
book  is  a  very  valuable  one.  I  have  begged  his 
Austerity  to  relax  in  one  point,  for  he  ranks  comedy 
with  farce  and  pantomime.  Now,  I  hold  a  perfect 
comedy  to  be  the  perfection  of  human  composition, 
and  believe  firmly  that  fifty  Iliads  and  ^Eneids 
could  be  written  sooner  than  such  a  character  as 
Falstaff  s.  Sir  John  says  that  Dr.  Wallis  discovered 
that  they  who  are  not  charmed  with  music  want  a 
nerve  in  their  brain.  This  would  be  dangerous 
anatomy.  I  should  swear  Sir  John  wants  the  comic 
nerve ;  and  by  parity  of  reason  we  should  ascribe 
new  nerves  to  all  those  who  have  bad  taste,  or  are 
delighted  with  what  others  think  ridiculous.  We 
should  have  nerves  like  Romish  saints  to  preside 
over  every  folly;  and  Mr.  Cosmo  must  have  a 
nerve  which  I  hope  Dr.  Wallis  would  not  find  in 
fifty  thousand  dissections.  Rechin,  too,  had  a  sort 
of  nerve  that  is  lost,  like  the  music  of  the  ancients ; 
yet,  perhaps,  the  royal  touch  could  revive  it  more 
easily  than  it  cures  the  Evil. 

4*. 

The  quarrel  between  the  SS.  Cosmo  and  Damian, 
they  say,  is  at  an  end.  I  kept  back  my  letter  in 
hopes  of  something  to  tell  your  Ladyship ;  but  there 
is  a  universal  yawn,  and  the  town  as  empty  as  in 
August.  I  heard  only  a  good  story  of  Mrs.  Bos- 
cawen,  the  admiral's  widow,  who  lives  near  London, 
and  came  to  town  as  soon  as  she  had  dined  at  her 
country  hour.  She  said,  "  I  expected  to  find  every- 
body at  dinner ;  but  instead  of  that,  I  found  all  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          183 

young  ladies  strolling  about  the  streets,  and  not 
thinking  of  going  home  to  dress  for  dinner :  so  I 
had  set  out  in  the  evening,  and  yet  got  to  town  in 
the  morning  of  the  same  day." 

I  shall  stay  here  for  Mr.  Mason's  "  Caractacus," 
that  is  to  be  acted  on  Friday,  and  then  return  to 
my  Hill. 

LVIII. 

ON  SENSIBILITY  AS  A  FACTOR   IN  HAPPINESS. 
To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

SUNDAY,/rt«.   19,  1777. 

You  may  imagine,  madam,  how  much  I  was 
touched  with  Lady  Anne's  sensibility  for  me  !  and 
to  give  you  some  proof  of  mine,  the  very  next  re- 
flection was,  that  I  was  sorry  she  promises  to 
have  so  much.  It  is  one  of  those  virtues  whose 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  but,  like  patience, 
is  forever  tried,  with  the  greater  disadvantage  of 
wanting  power  to  remedy  half  the  misfortunes  it 
feels  for.  Sensibility  is  one  of  the  master- springs, 
on  which  most  depends  the  color  of  our  lives,  and 
determines  our  being  happy  or  miserable.  I  have 
often  said  that  this  world  is  a  comedy  to  those  who 
think,  a  tragedy  to  those  who  feel ;  and  sensibility 
has  not  only  occasion  to  suffer  for  others,  but  is 
sure  of  its  own  portion  too.  Had  I  children,  and 
the  option  of  bestowing  dispositions  on  them,  I 
should  be  strangely  puzzled  to  decide.  Could  one 
refuse  them  feelings  that  make  them  amiable,  or 


1 84          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

confer  what  insures  unhappiness?  But  indeed  on 
what  could  one  decide,  were  the  fate  of  others  or 
one's  own  left  to  our  arbitrament? 

I  have  no  opinion  of  my  own  wisdom,  and  little 
of  anybody's  else ;  but  I  have  an  odd  system,  that 
what  is  called  chance  is  the  instrument  of  Provi- 
dence and  the  secret  agent  that  counteracts  what 
men  call  wisdom,  and  preserves  order  and  regular- 
ity, and  continuation  in  the  whole ;  for  you  must 
know,  madam,  that  I  firmly  believe,  notwithstanding 
all  our  complaints,  that  almost  every  person  upon 
earth  tastes  upon  the  totality  more  happiness  than 
miser)- ;  and  therefore,  if  we  could  correct  the 
world  to  our  fancies,  and  with  the  best  intentions 
imaginable,  probably  we  should  only  produce  more 
misery  and  confusion.  This  totally  contradicts 
what  I  said  before,  that  sensibility  or  insensibility 
determines  the  complexion  of  our  lives;  and  yet 
if  the  former  casts  a  predominating  shade  of  sad- 
ness over  the  general  tenor  of  our  feelings,  still 
that  gloom  is  illumined  with  delicious  flashes.  It 
enjoys  the  comforts  of  the  compassion  it  bestows 
and  of  the  misfortune  it  relieves ;  and  the  largest 
dose  of  the  apathy  of  insensibility  can  never  give 
any  notion  of  the  transport  that  thrills  through  the 
nerves  of  benevolence  when  it  consoles  the  anguish 
of  another;  but  I  am  too  much  a  sceptic  to  pretend 
to  make  or  reconcile  a  system  and  its  contradic- 
tions. No  man  was  ever  yet  so  great  as  to  build 
that  system  in  which  other  men  could  not  discover 
flaws.  All  our  reasoning,  therefore,  is  very  imper- 
fect, and  this  is  my  reason  for  being  so  seldom 


LETTERS  OF   HORACE   WALPOLE.         185 

serious  and  for  never  disputing.  I  look  upon 
human  reason  as  I  do  on  the  parts  of  a  promising 
child,  —  it  surprises,  may  improve  or  stop  short, 
but  is  not  come  to  maturity ;  and  therefore,  if  you 
please,  I  will  talk  of  the  Birthday  and  things  more 
suited  to  my  capacity. 

I  had  a  shining  circle  on  the  evening  of  that 
great  solemnity,  —  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, Lady  Pembroke,  Lady  Strafford,  Mr.  Conway 
and  Lady  Ailesbury,  in  all  their  gorgeous  attire. 
Lady  Warwick,  I  hear,  looked  charmingly;  but 
pray,  madam,  must  you,  to  possess  Miss  Vernon 
to  the  last  minute,  lock  her  and  yourself  up  in  the 
country?  You  make  no  answer  to  my  question  of 
when  you  come.  I  can  allow  you  but  one  week 
more.  I  propose  to  take  the  air  on  Thursday  and 
Friday,  to  air  myself  at  Strawberry  on  Saturday 
and  Sunday,  and  be  ready  on  the  Monday  to  wait 
on  you  in  Grosvenor  Place. 

Lord  Dillon  told  me  this  morning  that  Lord 
Besborough  and  he,  playing  at  quinze  t'  other  night 
with  Miss  Pelham,  and  happening  to  laugh,  she 
flew  into  a  passion  and  said,  "  It  was  terrible  to 
play  with  boys  !  "  and  our  two  ages  together,  said 
Lord  Dillon,  make  up  above  a  hundred  and  forty. 

Sir  George  Warren  lost  his  diamond  order  in  the 
Council  Chamber  at  the  Birthday  in  the  crowd  of 
loyal  subjects.  Part  of  Georgia  is  said  to  be  re- 
turned to  its  allegiance  to  King  George  and  Lord 
George.  Charles  Fox,  I  just  hear,  is  arrived,  and, 
I  conclude,  Mr.  Fitzpatrick.  My  awkward  hand 
has  made  a  thousand  blots,  but  I  cannot  help  it. 


1 86          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 
LIX. 

DISCOURAGING  OUTLOOK  OF  AFFAIRS   IN  AMERICA. 
To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  April  3,  1777. 
I  HAVE  nothing  very  new  to  tell  you  on  public 
affairs,  especially  as  I  can  know  nothing  more  than 
you  see  in  the  papers.  It  is  my  opinion  that  the 
king's  affairs  are  in  a  very  bad  position  in  America. 
I  do  not  say  that  his  armies  may  not  gain  advan- 
tages again ;  though  I  believe  there  has  been  as 
much  design  as  cowardice  in  the  behavior  of  the 
provincials,  who  seem  to  have  been  apprised  that 
protraction  of  the  war  would  be  more  certainly 
advantageous  to  them  than  heroism.  Washington, 
the  dictator,  has  shown  himself  both  a  Fabius  and  a 
Camillus.  His  march  through  our  lines  is  allowed 
to  have  been  a  prodigy  of  generalship.  In  one 
word,  I  look  upon  a  great  part  of  America  as  lost 
to  this  country !  It  is  not  less  deplorable  that, 
between  art  and  contention,  such  an  inveteracy  has 
been  sown  between  the  two  countries  as  will  prob- 
ably outlast  even  the  war !  Supposing  this  un- 
natural enmity  should  not  soon  involve  us  in  other 
wars,  which  would  be  extraordinary  indeed,  what  a 
difference,  in  a  future  war  with  France  and  Spain, 
to  have  the  Colonies  in  the  opposite  scale  instead 
of  being  in  ours  !  What  politicians  are  those  who 
have  preferred  the  empty  name  of  sovereignty  to 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          187 

that  of  alliance,  and  forced  subsidies  to  the  golden 
ocean  of  commerce  ! 

Alas  !  the  trade  of  America  is  not  all  we  shall 
lose.  The  ocean  of  commerce  wafted  us  wealth  at 
the  return  of  regular  tides ;  but  we  had  acquired  an 
empire  too,  in  whose  plains  the  beggars  we  sent 
out  as  labourers  could  reap  sacks  of  gold  in  three 
or  four  harvests,  and  who  with  their  sickles  and 
reaping-hooks  have  robbed  and  cut  the  throats  of 
those  who  sowed  the  grain.  These  rapacious  fora- 
gers have  fallen  together  by  the  ears ;  and  our  In- 
dian affairs,  I  suppose,  will  soon  be  in  as  desperate 
a  state  as  our  American.  Lord  Pigot  [Governor 
of  Madras]  has  been  treacherously  and  violently 
imprisoned,  and  the  Company  here  has  voted  his 
restoration.  I  know  nothing  of  the  merits  of  the 
cause  on  either  side.  I  dare  to  say  both  are  very 
blamable.  I  look  only  to  the  consequences,  which 
I  do  not  doubt  will  precipitate  the  loss  of  our  ac- 
quisitions there,  the  title  to  which  I  never  admired, 
and  the  possession  of  which  I  always  regarded  as  a 
transitory  vision.  If  we  could  keep  it,  we  should 
certainly  plunder  it,  till  the  expense  of  maintaining 
would  overbalance  the  returns ;  and  though  it  has 
rendered  a  little  more  than  the  holy  city  of  Jerusa- 
lem, I  look  on  such  distant  conquests  as  more 
destructive  than  beneficial ;  and  whether  we  are 
martyrs  or  banditti,  whether  we  fight  for  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  or  for  lakhs  of  rupees,  I  detest  invasions 
of  quiet  kingdoms  both  for  their  sakes  and  for  our 
own ;  and  it  is  happy  for  the  former  that  the  latter 
are  never  permanently  benefited. 


1 88         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Though  I  have  been  drawn  away  from  your  letter 
by  the  subject  of  it  and  by  political  reflections,  I 
must  not  forget  to  thank  you  for  your  solicitude  and 
advice  about  my  health ;  but  pray  be  assured  that 
I  am  sufficiently  attentive  to  it,  and  never  stay  long 
here  in  wet  weather,  which  experience  has  told  me 
is  prejudicial.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  I  know  Lon- 
don agrees  with  me  better  than  the  country.  The 
latter  suits  my  age  and  inclination  ;  but  my  health 
is  a  more  cogent  reason,  and  governs  me.  I  know 
my  own  constitution  exactly,  and  have  formed  my 
way  of  life  accordingly.  No  weather,  nothing  gives 
me  cold ;  because,  for  these  nine  and  thirty  years 
I  have  hardened  myself  so,  by  braving  all  weathers 
and  taking  no  precautions  against  cold,  that  the 
extremes!  and  most  sudden  changes  do  not  affect 
me  in  that  respect.  Yet  damp,  without  giving  me 
cold,  affects  my  nerves ;  and  the  moment  I  feel  it  I 
go  to  town.  I  am  certainly  better  since  my  last 
fit  of  gout  than  ever  I  was  after  one ;  in  short, 
perfectly  well,  —  that  is,  well  enough  for  my  age.  In 
one  word,  I  am  very  weak,  but  have  no  complaint ; 
and  as  my  constitution,  frame,  and  health  require 
no  exercise,  nothing  but  fatigue  affects  me,  and 
therefore  you,  and  all  who  are  so  good  as  to  interest 
themselves  about  me  and  give  advice,  must  excuse 
me  if  I  take  none.  I  am  preached  to  about  taking 
no  care  against  catching  cold,  and  am  told  I  shall 
one  day  or  other  be  caught,  —  possibly ;  but  I  must 
die  of  something,  and  why  should  not  what  has 
done  to  sixty,  be  right  ?  My  regimen  and  practice 
have  been  formed  on  experience  and  success. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         189 

Perhaps  a  practice  that  has  suited  the  weakest  of 
frames  would  kill  a  Hercules.  God  forbid  I  should 
recommend  it,  for  I  never  saw  another  human  being 
that  would  not  have  died  of  my  darings,  especially 
in  the  gout.  Yet  I  have  always  found  benefit,  be- 
cause my  nature  is  so  feverish  that  everything  cold, 
inwardly  or  outwardly,  suits  me.  Cold  air  and  water 
are  my  specifics,  and  I  shall  die  when  I  am  not 
master  enough  of  myself  to  employ  them,  —  or  rather, 
as  I  said  this  winter,  on  comparing  the  iron  texture 
of  my  inside  with  the  debility  of  my  outside,  "  I 
believe  I  shall  have  nothing  but  my  inside  left !  " 
Therefore,  my  dear  sir,  my  regard  for  you  will  last 
as  long  as  there  is  an  atom  of  me  remaining. 


LX. 


DISCLAIMING  RESPONSIBILITY  FOR  CHATTERTON'S 
SUICIDE. 

To  the  Rev.  William  Cole. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  June  19,  1777. 
I  THANK  you  for  your  notices,  dear  sir,  and  shall 
remember  that  on  Prince  William.  I  did  see  the 
"  Monthly  Review,"  but  hope  one  is  not  guilty  of 
the  death  of  every  man  who  does  not  make  one  the 
dupe  of  a  forgery.  I  believe  M'Pherson's  success 
with  "  Ossian  "  was  more  the  ruin  of  Chatterton  than 
I.  Two  years  passed  between  my  doubting  the 
authenticity  of  Rowley's  poems  and  his  death.  I 
never  knew  he  had  been  in  London  till  some  time 


190         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

after  he  had  undone  and  poisoned  himself  there. 
The  poems  he  sent  me  were  transcripts  in  his  own 
hand,  and  even  in  that  circumstance  he  told  a  lie ; 
he  said  he  had  them  from  the  very  person  at  Bristol 
to  whom  he  had  given  them.  If  any  man  was  to 
tell  you  that  monkish  rhymes  had  been  dug  up  at 
Herculaneum,  which  was  destroyed  several  centuries 
before  there  was  any  such  poetry,  should  you  be- 
lieve it  ?  Just  the  reverse  is  the  case  of  Rowley's 
pretended  poems.  They  have  all  the  elegance  of 
Waller  and  Prior,  and  more  than  Lord  Surrey ;  but 
I  have  no  objection  to  anybody  believing  what  he 
pleases.  I  think  poor  Chatterton  was  an  astonish- 
ing genius,  but  I  cannot  think  that  Rowley  fore- 
saw metres  that  were  invented  long  after  he  was 
dead,  or  that  our  language  was  more  refined  at 
Bristol  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  than  it  was  at 
Court  under  Henry  VIII.  One  of  the  chaplains  of 
the  Bishop  of  Exeter  has  found  a  line  of  Rowley  in 
Hudibras  —  the  monk  might  foresee  that  too  !  The 
prematurity  of  Chatterton's  genius  is,  however,  full 
as  wonderful  as  that  such  a  prodigy  as  Rowley 
should  never  have  been  heard  of  till  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  youth  and  industry  of  the  former  are 
miracles  too,  yet  still  more  credible.  There  is  not 
a  symptom  in  the  poems,  but  the  old  words,  that 
savours  of  Rowley's  age ;  change  the  old  words 
for  modern,  and  the  whole  construction  is  of 
yesterday. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          191 

LXL 

ADVICE  TO  A  DRAMATIC  WRITER. 
To  Robert  Jephson,  Esq. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Jttly  13,  1777. 
You  have  perhaps,  sir,  paid  too  much  regard  to 
the  observations  I  took  the  liberty  to  make,  by 
your  order,  to  a'  few  passages  in  "  Vitellia,"  and  I 
must  hope  they  were  in  consequence  of  your  own 
judgment  too.  I  do  not  doubt  of  its  success  on 
the  stage  if  well  acted ;  but  I  confess  I  would 
answer  for  nothing  with  the  present  set  of  actors, 
who  are  not  capable  in  tragedy  of  doing  any  justice 
to  it.  Mrs.  Barry  seems  to  me  very  unequal  to  the 
principal  part,  to  which  Mrs.  Yates  alone  is  suited. 
Were  I  the  author,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have 
my  tragedy  murdered,  perhaps  miscarry.  Your 
reputation  is  established,  you  will  never  forfeit  it 
yourself;  and  to  give  your  works  to  unworthy  per- 
formers is  like  sacrificing  a  daughter  to  a  husband 
of  bad  character.  As  to  my  offering  it  to  Mr.  Col- 
man,  I  could  merely  be  the  messenger.  I  am 
scarce  known  to  him,  have  no  right  to  ask  a  favor 
of  him,  and  I  hope  you  know  me  enough  to  think 
that  I  am  too  conscious  of  my  own  insignificance 
and  private  situation  to  give  myself  an  air  of  pro- 
tection, and  more  particularly  to  a  work  of  yours, 
sir.  What  could  I  say  that  would  carry  greater 
weight  than  "  This  piece  is  by  the  author  of 
'  Braganza ' ?  " 


I92         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

A  tragedy  can  never  suffer  by  delay ;  a  comedy 
may,  because  the  allusions  or  the  manners  repre- 
sented in  it  may  be  temporary.  I  urge  this,  not  to 
dissuade  your  presenting  "  Vitellia  "  to  the  stage,  but 
i  to  console  you  if  both  theatres  should  be  engaged 
next  winter.  My  own  interests,  from  my  time  of 
life,  would  make  me  with  reason  more  impatient 
than  you  to  see  it  represented ;  but  I  am  jealous  of 
the  honor  of  your  poetry,  and  I  should  grieve  to  see 
" Vitellia"  at  Covent  Garden, — not  that,  except 
Mrs.  Yates,  I  have  any  partiality  to  the  tragic  actors 
at  Drury  Lane,  though  Smith  did  not  miscarry  in 
"  Braganza ;  "  but  I  speak  from  experience.  I 
attended  "  Caractacus  "  last  winter,  and  was  greatly 
interested,  both  from  my  friendship  for  Mr.  Mason 
and  from  the  excellence  of  the  poetry.  I  was  out 
of  all  patience ;  for  though  a  young  Lewis  played  a 
subordinate  part  very  well,  and  Mrs.  Hartley  looked 
her  part  charmingly,  the  Druids  were  so  massacred 
and  Caractacus  so  much  worse  that  I  never  saw  a 
more  barbarous  exhibition.  Instead  of  hurrying 
"  The  Law  of  Lombardy,"  —  which,  however,  I  shall 
delight  to  see  finished,  —  I  again  wish  you  to  try 
comedy.  To  my  great  astonishment,  there  were 
more  parts  performed  admirably  in  "  The  School  for 
Scandal  "  than  I  almost  ever  saw  in  any  play.  Mrs. 
Abington  was  equal  to  the  first  of  her  profession ; 
Yates  (the  husband),  Parsons,  Miss  Pope,  and 
Palmer,  all  shone.  It  seemed  a  marvellous  resur- 
rection of  the  stage.  Indeed,  the  play  had  as  much 
merit  as  the  actors.  I  have  seen  no  comedy  that 
comes  near  it  since  the  "  Provoked  Husband." 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.          193 

I  said  I  was  jealous  of  your  fame  as  a  poet,  and 
I  truly  am.  The  more  rapid  your  genius  is,  labor 
will  but  the  more  improve  it.  I  am  very  frank,  but 
I  am  sure  that  my  attention  to  your  reputation  will 
excuse  it.  Your  facility  in  writing  exquisite  poetry 
may  be  a  disadvantage,  as  it  may  not  leave  you 
time  to  study  the  other  requisites  of  tragedy  so 
much  as  is  necessary.  Your  writings  deserve  to 
last  for  ages ;  but  to  make  any  work  last,  it  must 
be  finished  in  all  parts  to  perfection.  You  have 
the  first  requisite  to  that  perfection,  for  you  can 
sacrifice  charming  lines  when  they  do  not  tend  to 
improve  the  whole.  I  admire  this  resignation  so 
much  that  I  wish  to  turn  it  to  your  advantage. 
Strike  out  your  sketches  as  suddenly  as  you  please, 
but  retouch  and  retouch  them,  that  the  best  judges 
may  forever  admire  them.  The  works  that  have 
stood  the  test  of  ages,  and  been  slowly  approved  at 
first,  are  not  those  that  have  dazzled  contemporaries 
and  borne  away  their  applause,  but  those  whose 
intrinsic  and  labored  merit  have  shone  the  brighter 
on  examination.  I  would  not  curb  your  genius, 
sir,  if  I  did  not  trust  it  would  recoil  with  greater 
force  for  having  obstacles  presented  to  it. 

You  will  forgive  my  not  having  sent  you  the 
"  Thoughts  on  Comedy,"  as  I  promised.  I  have  had 
no  time  to  look  them  over  and  put  them  into  shape. 
I  have  been  and  am  involved  in  most  unpleasant 
affairs  of  family,  that  take  up  my  whole  thoughts 
and  attention.  The  melancholy  situation  of  my 
nephew,  Lord  Orford,  engages  me  particularly,  and 
I  am  not  young  enough  to  excuse  postponing  busi- 
13 


1 94         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

ness  and  duties  for  amusement.  In  truth  I  am 
really  too  old  not  to  have  given  up  literary  pleas- 
ures. Nobody  will  tell  one  when  one  grows  dull, 
but  one's  time  of  life  ought  to  tell  it  one.  I  long 
ago  determined  to  keep  the  archbishop  in  "  Gil 
Bias  "  in  my  eye,  when  I  should  advance  to  his 
caducity;  but  as  dotage  steals  in  at  more  doors 
than  one,  perhaps  the  sermon  I  have  been  preach- 
ing to  you  is  a  symptom  of  it.  You  must  judge  of 
that,  sir.  If  I  fancy  I  have  been  wise,  and  have 
only  been  peevish,  throw  my  lecture  into  the  fire. 
I  am  sure  the  liberties  I  have  taken  with  you  de- 
serve no  indulgence  if  you  do  not  discern  true 
friendship  at  the  bottom  of  them. 


LXII. 

SYMPATHIZING  WITH  THE  AMERICANS. 
To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

THURSDAY  NIGHT,  Dec.  11,  1777. 

I  DO  not  write,  madam,  to  tell  you  politics ;  you 
will  hear  them  better  from  Lord  Ossory :  nor  in- 
deed have  I  words  to  paint  the  abject,  impudent 
poltroonery  of  the  Ministers,  or  the  blockish  stu- 
pidity of  the  Parliament. 

Lord  North  yesterday  declared  he  should,  during 
the  recess,  prepare  to  lay  before  the  Parliament 
proposals  of  peace  to  be  offered  to  the  Americans  ! 
"  /  trust  we  have  force  enough  to  bring  forward  an 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.          195 

accommodation"  They  were  his  very  words.  Was 
ever  proud,  insolent  nation  sunk  so  low?  Burke 
and  Charles  Fox  told  him  the  Administration 
thought  of  nothing  but  keeping  their  places ;  and 
so  they  will,  and  the  members  their  pensions,  and 
the  nation  its  infamy.  Were  I  Franklin  I  would 
order  the  Cabinet  Council  to  come  to  me  at  Paris 
with  ropes  about  their  necks,  and  then  kick  them 
back  to  St.  James's. 

Well,  madam,  as  I  told  Lord  Ossory  t'  other  day, 
I  am  satisfied,  —  Old  England  is  safe,  that  is, 
America,  whither  the  true  English  retired  under 
Charles  the  First ;  this  is  Nova  Scotia,  and  I 
care  not  what  becomes  of  it. 

I  have  just  been  at  "  Percy." 1  The  four  first  acts 
are  much  better  than  I  expected,  and  very  ani- 
mated. There  are  good  situations  and  several 
pretty  passages,  but  not  much  nature.  There  is 
a  fine  speech  of  the  heroine  to  her  father,  and  a 
strange  sermon  against  Crusades,  that  ends  with  a 
description  of  the  Saviour,  who  died  for  our  sins. 
The  last  act  is  very  ill-conducted,  unnatural,  and 
obscure.  Earl  Douglas  is  a  savage  ruffian.  Earl 
Percy  is  converted  by  the  virtue  of  his  mistress,  and 
she  is  love  and  virtue  in  the  supreme  degree.  There 
is  a  prologue  and  epilogue  about  fine  ladies  and 
fine  gentlemen,  and  feathers  and  buckles,  and  I 
don't  doubt  every  word  of  both  Mr.  Garrick's ;  for 
they  are  common-place,  and  written  for  the  upper 
gallery.  It  was  very  moderately  performed,  but 
one  passage  against  the  odious  Scot  Douglas  was 
1  A  tragedy  by  Hannah  More. 


196         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

loudly  applauded,  and  showed  that  the  mob  have 
no  pensions. 

Our  brave  Administration  have  turned  out  Lord 
Jersey  and  Mr.  Hopkins,  which  will  certainly  con- 
vince all  America  and  all  Europe  that  they  are  not 
afraid ;  though  I  saw  one  of  their  tools  to-day,  who 
assured  me  they  are,  —  nay,  he  said  (and  he  is 
somebody)  that  if  the  Congress  insists  on  the  Min- 
istry being  changed  it  must  be.  I  do  not  believe 
the  Congress  will  do  them  so  much  honor;  but  I 
answered,  "  Sir,  if  the  Congress  should  make  that 
condition,  it  will  not  be  from  caring  about  it,  but  to 
make  the  pacification  impossible.  I  do  not  believe 
they  care  much  more  for  the  Opposition  than  for 
the  Administration;  but  they  must  know  that  the 
Opposition  could  not,  would  not,  grant  terms  that 
this  Administration  should  refuse." 

Adieu,  madam  !  I  am  at  last  not  sorry  you 
have  no  son,  and  your  daughters,  I  hope,  will  be 
married  to  Americans,  and  not  in  this  dirty,  despi- 
cable island ! 


LXIII. 

ENGLAND  OFFERS  PEACE.  -  RETROSPECTION. 
To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

ARLINGTON  STREET,  Feb.  18,  1778^, 

I  DO  not  know  how  to  word  the  following  letter ; 

how  to  gain  credit  with  you  !     How  shall  I  intimate 

to  you    that  you  must  lower  your  topsails,  waive 

your  imperial  dignity,  and  strike  to  the  colors  of 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         1 97 

the  thirteen  United  Provinces  of  America?  Do 
not  tremble,  and  imagine  that  Washington  has  de- 
feated General  Howe  and  driven  him  out  of  Phila- 
delphia, or  that  Gates  has  taken  another  army,  or 
that  Portsmouth  is  invested  by  an  American  fleet. 
No ;  no  military  new  event  has  occasioned  this  re- 
volution. The  sacrifice  has  been  made  on  the  altar 
of  Peace.  Stop  again  :  peace  is  not  made,  it  is  only 
implored,  —  and,  I  fear,  only  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  In  short,  yesterday,  February  ij/A,  a 
most  memorable  era,  Lord  North  opened  his  Con- 
ciliatory' Plan,  —  no  partial,  no  collusive  one.  In 
as  few  words  as  I  can  use,  it  solicits  peace  with  the 
States  of  America :  it  haggles  on  no  terms ;  it  ac- 
knowledges the  Congress,  or  anybody  that  pleases  to 
treat ;  it  confesses  errors,  misinformation,  ill-success, 
and  impossibility  of  conquest ;  it  disclaims  taxation, 
desires  commerce,  hopes  for  assistance,  allows  the 
independence  of  America,  not  verbally,  yet  virtually, 
and  suspends  hostilities  till  June,  1779.  It  does  a 
little  more  :  not  verbally,  but  virtually,  it  confesses 
that  the  Opposition  have  been  in  the  right  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end. 

The  warmest  American  cannot  deny  but  these 
gracious  condescensions  are  ample  enough  to  con- 
tent that  whole  continent ;  and  yet,  my  friend, 
such  accommodating  facility  had  one  defect,  —  it 
came  too  late.  The  treaty  between  the  high  and 
mighty  States  and  France  is  signed  ;  and  instead  of 
peace,  we  must  expect  war  with  the  high  allies. 
The  French  army  is  come  to  the  coast,  and  their 
officers  here  are  recalled. 


198         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

The  House  of  Commons  embraced  the  plan, 
and  voted  it,  nemine  contradicente.  It  is  to  pass 
both  Houses  with  a  rapidity  that  will  do  every- 
thing but  overtake  time  past.  All  the  world  is  in 
astonishment.  As  my  letter  will  not  set  out  till 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  I  shall  have  time  to  tell 
you  better  what  is  thought  of  this  amazing  step. 

Feb.  20. 

In  sooth  I  cannot  tell  you  what  is  thought.  No- 
body knows  what  to  think.  To  leap  at  once  from 
an  obstinacy  of  four  years  to  a  total  concession  of 
everything ;  to  stoop  so  low,  without  hopes  of  being 
forgiven,  —  who  can  understand  such  a  transforma- 
tion? I  must  leave  you  in  all  your  wonderment; 
for  the  cloud  is  not  dispersed.  When  it  shall  be, 
I  doubt  it  will  discover  no  serene  prospect !  All 
that  remains  certain  is,  that  America  is  not  only 
lost,  but  given  up.  We  must  no  longer  give  our- 
selves Continental  airs  !  I  fear  even  our  trident  will 
find  it  has  lost  a  considerable  prong. 

I  have  lived  long,  but  never  saw  such  a  day  as 
last  Tuesday  !  From  the  first,  I  augured  ill  of  this 
American  war ;  yet  do  not  suppose  that  I  boast  of 
my  penetration.  Far  was  I  from  expecting  such  a 
conclusion  !  Conclusion  !  — y  sommes  nous  ?  Acts 
of  Parliament  have  made  a  war,  but  cannot  repeal 
one.  They  have  provoked,  not  terrified ;  and 
Washington  and  Gates  have  respected  the  Speaker's 
mace  no  more  than  Oliver  Cromwell  did. 

You  shall  hear  as  events  arise.  I  disclaim  all 
sagacity,  and  pretend  to  no  foresight,  —  it  is  not  an 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          199 

Englishman's  talent.  Even  the  second- sight  of  the 
Scots  has  proved  a  little  purblind. 

Have  you  heard  that  Voltaire  is  actually  in  Paris  ? 
Perhaps  soon  you  will  learn  French  news  earlier 
than  I  can. 

What  scenes  my  letters  to  you  have  touched  on 
for  eight  and  thirty  years  !  I  arrived  here  at  the  eve 
of  the  termination  of  my  father's  happy  reign. 
The  rebellion,  as  he  foresaw,  followed ;  and  much 
disgrace.  Another  war  ensued,  with  new  disgraces. 
And  then  broke  forth  Lord  Chatham's  sun ;  and 
all  was  glory  and  extensive  empire.  Nor  tranquillity 
nor  triumph  are  our  lot  now  !  But  adieu  !  I  shall 
probably  write  again  before  you  have  digested  half 
the  meditations  this  letter  will  have  conjured  up. 


LXIV. 

LORD  CHATHAM'S  LAST  APPEARANCE  IN  THE    HOUSE 
OF  LORDS. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

THURSDAY,  April  yh,  1778. 

I  AM  not  going  to  announce  more  war  than  by 
my  last ;  it  seems  to  sleep,  like  a  paroli  at  faro, 
and  be  reserved  for  another  deal.  Though  I  write 
oftener  than  usual,  I  have  not  a  full  cargo  every 
time ;  but  I  have  two  novel  events  to  send  you. 
The  newspapers  indeed  anticipate  many  of  my 
articles;  but  as  I  suppose  you  pay  me  the  com- 


200         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

pliment  of  opening  my  letters  before  the  Gazettes, 
I  shall  be  the  first  to  inform  you,  though  but  by 
five  minutes.  Lord  Chatham  has  again  appeared 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  probably  for  the  last 
time.  He  was  there  on  Tuesday,  against  the  earn- 
est remonstrance  of  his  physician;  and,  I  think, 
only  to  make  confusion  worse  confounded.  He 
had  intended  to  be  very  hostile  to  the  Ministers, 
and  yet  to  force  himself  into  all  their  places  by 
maintaining  the  sovereignty  of  America,  to  which 
none  of  the  Opposition  but  his  own  few  followers 
adhere ;  and  they  cannot,  like  a  strolling  company 
in  a  barn,  fill  all  the  parts  of  a  drama  with  four  or 
five  individuals.  It  appeared  early  in  his  speech 
that  he  had  lost  himself;  he  did  not  utter  half  he 
intended,  and  sat  down :  but,  rising  to  reply  to 
the  Duke  of  Richmond,  he  fell  down  in  an  apoplec- 
tic fit,  and  was  thought  dead.  They  transported 
him  into  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  and  laid  him 
on  a  table.  In  twenty  minutes  he  recovered  his 
senses  and  was  carried  to  a  messenger's  house  ad- 
joining, where  he  still  remains.  The  scene  was 
very  affecting;  his  two  sons  and  son-in-law,  Lord 
Mahon,  were  round  him.  The  House  paid  a 
proper  mark  of  respect  by  adjourning  instantly. 

The  same  incertitude  remains  on  our  general 
situation.  I  pretend  to  tell  you  facts  only,  not 
reasonings ;  and  therefore  will  say  no  more  now 
on  public.  One  event,  indeed,  of  Parliamentary 
complexion  touches  my  private  feelings  very  par- 
ticularly. The  King  has  demanded  a  provision 
for  his  younger  children,  and  has  been  so  good 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  20 1 

as  to  add  the  Duke's  to  the  list,  —  nobly  too,  both 
from  the  proportion  of  the  allowance  and  the 
circumstances  of  the  times.  The  King's  sons  are 
to  have  ten  thousand  a  year  each,  his  daughters 
six,  Prince  William  eight,  and  Princess  Sophia 
four.  Thus  both  income  and  rank  are  ascer- 
tained. This  is  a  great  thorn  extracted  from  all 
our  sides,  and  I  trust  will  have  good  influence  on 
his  Royal  Highness's  health. 

I  was  debarrassp&  (not  in  so  comfortable  a 
way)  of  my  nephew.  He  has  resumed  the  entire 
dominion  of  himself,  and  is  gone  into  the  country, 
and  intends  to  command  the  militia.  I  have  done 
all  I  could,  when  scarce  anything  was  in  my  power, 
to  prevent  it ;  but  in  vain.  He  has  even  asked  to 
be  a  major-general,  which  officers  of  militia  cannot 
be.  What  a  humiliation  to  know  he  is  thus  ex- 
posing himself,  and  not  dare  to  interpose !  Yet 
he  is  not  ignorant  of  his  situation.  He  said  the 
other  day  to  his  Dalilah,  speaking  of  Dr.  Monro  : 
"Patty,  I  like  this  doctor,  don't  you?  We  will 
have  him  next  time."  What  an  amazing  compost 
of  sense,  insensibility,  and  frenzy  !  Adieu  ! 


202        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


LXV. 

DEATH    OF    VOLTAIRE.  —  THE   UNCERTAINTY  OF 
WORLDLY  MATTERS   IN   GENERAL. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  June  16,  1778. 

As  I  have  just  received  yours  of  May  3Oth,  I  will 
begin  to  answer  it,  though  I  wrote  to  you  on  the 
first  of  this  month,  and  think  I  shall  not  have  enough 
additional  to  fill  a  whole  letter  yet. 

The  public  imagined  there  would  have  been  some 
changes  on  the  rising  of  the  Parliament ;  but  they 
began  and  ended  in  the  Law,  and  with  bestowing 
the  three  vacant  Garters.  The  Toulon  squadron  is 
certainly  gone  to  America ;  if  to  Boston,  it  is  pos- 
sible with  the  immediate  view  only  of  getting  sailors 
and  two  ships  that  are  building  there  for  France. 
If  they  can  resist  the  temptation  of  burning  Halifax, 
attacking  Lord  Howe  or  the  West  Indies,  they  are 
as  great  philosophers  as  Sir  William  Howe,  who  has 
twice  gazed  at  General  Washington.  The  last  ac- 
count from  that  quarter  had  a  little  spirit  in  it ; 
they  have  burnt  above  forty  American  sloops  and 
fry  in  the  Delaware.  For  these  last  days  there  have 
been  rumors  of  disposition  in  the  Americans  to 
treat ;  but  they  do  not  gain  much  credit.  Admiral 
Byron  is  sailed  to  America,  and  Admiral  Keppel  is 
at  sea.  At  home  we  are  spread  with  camps.  This 
is  all  that  amounts  to  facts,  or  to  the  eggs  of  facts. 
Sir  William  Howe  is  expected  in  a  week  or  ten 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         203 

days.  As  the  Parliament  is  not  sitting,  that  topic 
may  be  suspended.  Next  we  are  to  await  the  news 
of  the  reception  of  the  commissioners  ;  perhaps  their 
return.  It  would  be  easy  to  dilate  reflections  on  all 
this  suspense ;  but  I  do  not  write  to  display  my 
sagacity,  but  to  inform  you. 

The  meteor  of  the  reading  world  is  dead, —  Vol- 
taire. That  throne  is  quite  vacant.  We  shall  see 
whether  his  old  friend  of  Prussia 1  maintains  that  of 
war,  or  cedes  it  to  a  young  Caesar.2  He  seems  to  me 
to  be  aiming  at  a  more  artful  crown,  —  that  of  policy, 
—  and  in  all  probability  will  attain  it ;  at  least,  I  am 
not  much  prejudiced  yet  in  favor  of  his  competitor. 
It  is  from  beyond  the  Atlantic  that  the  world  per- 
haps will  see  a  genius  revive.  They  seem  to  set 
out  with  a  politeness  with  which  few  empires  have 
commenced.  We  have  not  shown  ourselves  quite 
so  civilized.  We  hectored  and  called  names,  talked 
fire  and  sword,  but  have  made  more  use  of  the  first 
than  of  the  second.  Our.  Generals  beg  to  be  tried, 
and  our  Ministers  not  to  be  tried.  This  does  not 
sound  well  when  translated  into  other  languages. 
For  my  part,  who  hold  that  Chance  has  much  more 
to  do  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  than  Wisdom,  I  wait 
to  see  what  the  first  will  ordain.  This  belief  is  a 
sovereign  preservative  against  despondency.  There 
have  been  very  gloomy  moments  in  my  life ;  but 
experience  has  shown  me,  either  that  events  do  not 
correspond  to  appearances,  or  that  I  have  very  little 
shrewdness ;  and  therefore  I  can  resign  the  honor  of 

1  Frederick  III. 

2  The  Emperor  Joseph  II. 


204          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

my  penetration  with  satisfaction  when  my  foresight 
augurs  ill.  If  Lord  Chatham  knew  that  he  should 
conquer  the  world,  or  Dr.  Franklin  that  he  should 
reduce  us  lower  than  Lord  Chatham  found  us,  I 
should  respect  their  penetration  indeed  !  But  with- 
out detracting  from  their  spirit  or  abilities,  I  do  not 
believe  the  first  expected  half  the  success  he  met 
with,  or  the  latter  half  the  incapacity  that  has  been 
exerted  against,  and  consequently  for,  him. 


LXVI. 

INFATUATION  OF  ENGLAND. 
To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

July  4,  1778. 

CHILDREN  break  their  playthings  to  see  the  inside 
of  them.  Pope  thought  superior  beings  looked  on 
Newton  but  as  a  monkey  of  uncommon  parts  :  would 
not  he  think  that  we  have  been  like  babies  smashing 
an  empire  to  see  what  it  was  made  of?  Truly  I  doubt 
whether  there  will  be  a  whole  piece  left  in  three 
months ;  the  conduct  bears  due  proportion  to  the 
incapacity,  —  you  ought  to  be  on  the  spot  to  believe 
it.  When  Keppel's  messenger,  Mr.  Berkeley,  arrived, 
neither  the  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  nor  the 
Secretary  was  to  be  found ;  and  now  Mr.  Keppel  is 
returned,  we  learn  that  the  East  and  West  India 
fleets,  worth  four  millions,  are  at  stake,  and  the 
French  frigates  are  abroad  in  pursuit  of  them.  Yes- 
terday the  merchants  were  with  Lord  North  to  press 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,          205 

Keppel  might  sail  again  against  a  superior  fleet. 
Forty  thousand  men  are  on  the  coast,  and  transports 
assembling  in  every  port,  and  nothing  but  incapacity 
and  inability  in  all  this,  and  not  a  grain  of  treachery. 

General  Howe  is  arrived,  and  was  graciously  re- 
ceived. The  agreeable  news  he  brought  is,  that 
Clinton,  for  want  of  provisions,  has  abandoned  Phila- 
delphia and  marched  through  the  Jerseys  to  New 
York  without  molestation,  on  condition  of  not  de- 
stroying Philadelphia.  The  Congress  has  ratified 
the  treaty  with  France,  and  intend  to  treat  the  com- 
missioners de  hatit  en  bas,  —  unless  you  choose  to 
believe  the  "  Morning  Post,"  who  says  five  provinces 
declare  for  peace.  I  told  you  lately  my  curiosity  to 
know  what  is  to  be  left  to  us  at  a  general  peace. 
The  wisest  thing  the  Ministers  could  do  would  be  to 
ask  that  question  incontinently.  I  am  persuaded 
in  the  present  apathy  that  the  nation  would  be  per- 
fectly pleased,  let  the  terms  be  what  they  would.  A 
series  of  disasters  may  spoil  this  good  humor,  and 
there  often  wants  but  a  man  to  fling  a  stone  to 
spread  a  conflagration.  The  Treasury  is  not  rich 
enough  at  present  to  indemnify  the  losers  of  four 
millions ;  the  stockholders  are  two  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  and  the  fraction  forty  thousand 
would  make  an  ugly  mob.  In  short,  tempests  that 
used  to  be  composed  of  irascible  elements  never 
had  more  provocation  than  they  are  likely  to 
have,  —  such  is  the  glimpse  of  our  present  horizon, 
Now  to  your  letter. 

If  your  Mecsenas's *  fame  is  overwhelmed  in  Lord 
1  Lord  Holdernesse,  who  had  recently  died. 


206        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Chatham's  and  Voltaire's,  it  is  already  revenged  on 
the  latter's.  Madame  du  Deffand's  letter  of  to-day 
says  he  is  already  forgotten.  La  belle  poule  has 
obliterated  him,  but  probably  will  have  a  contrary 
effect  on  Lord  Chatham.  All  my  old  friend  has  told 
me  of  Voltaire's  death  is  that  the  excessive  fatigues 
he  underwent  by  his  journey  to  Paris,  and  by  the 
bustle  he  made  with  reading  his  play  to  the  actors 
and  hearing  them  repeat  it,  and  by  going  to  it,  and 
by  the  crowds  that  nocked  to  him,  —  in  one  word, 
the  agitation  of  so  much  applause  at  eighty-four, 
—  threw  him  into  a  strangury,  for  which  he  took  so 
much  laudanum  that  his  frame  could  not  resist  all, 
and  he  fell  a  martyr  to  his  vanity.  Nay,  Garrick, 
who  is  above  twenty  years  younger,  and  as  full  as 
vain,  would  have  been  choked  with  such  doses  of 
flattery,  —  though  he  would  like  to  die  the  death. 

You,  who  are  not  apt  to  gape  for  incense,  may 
be  believed  when  you  speak  well  of  "  Sappho."  I 
am  sorry  I  must  wait  for  the  sight  till  Lord  Harcourt 
proclaims  summer.  I  enjoy  the  present,  which  I 
remember  none  like ;  but  even  this  is  clouded  by 
the  vexation  of  seeing  this  lovely  island  spoiled  and 
sold  to  shame.  I  look  at  our  beautiful  improve- 
ments, and  sigh  to  think  that  they  have  seen  their 
best  days.  Did  you  feel  none  of  these  melancholy 
reflections  at  Wentworth  Castle?  I  wrote  the  Earl 
[Strafford]  a  letter  two  days  ago  that  will  not  please 
him  ;  but  can  one  always  contain  one's  chagrin  when 
one's  country  is  ruined  by  infatuation  ?  No,  we  never 
can  revive.  We  killed  the  hen  that  laid  the  golden 
eggs.  The  term  Great  Britain  will  be  a  jest.  My 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        207 

English  pride  is  wounded,  yet  there  is  one  comforta- 
ble thought  remains,  —  when  Liberty  was  abandoned 
by  her  sons  here,  she  animated  her  genuine  children, 
and  inspired  them  to  chastise  the  traitor  Scots  that 
attacked  her.  They  have  made  a  blessed  harvest 
of  their  machinations.  If  there  is  a  drachm  of  sense 
under  a  crown,  a  Scot  hereafter  will  be  reckoned 
pestilential.  Methinks  the  word  Prerogative  should 
never  sound  very  delightful  in  this  island ;  attempt 
to  extend  it,  and  its  fairest  branches  wither  and  drop 
off.  What  has  an  army  of  fifty  thousand  men  fight- 
ing for  sovereignty  achieved  in  America  ?  Retreated 
from  Boston,  retreated  from  Philadelphia,  laid  down 
their  arms  at  Saratoga,  and  lost  thirteen  provinces  ! 
Nor  is  the  measure  yet  full !  Such  are  the  conse- 
quences of  our  adopting  new  legislators,  new  histo- 
rians, new  doctors  !  Locke  and  Sidney,  for  Humes, 
Johnsons,  and  Dalrymples  !  When  the  account  is 
made  up  and  a  future  Historiographer  Royal  casts 
up  debtor  and  creditor,  I  hope  he  will  please  to 
state  the  balance  between  the  last  war/<?r  America 
and  the  present  against  it.  The  advantages  of  that 
we  know,  —  Quebec,  the  Havannah,  Martinico,  Gua- 
daloupe,  the  East  Indies,  the  French  and  Spanish 
fleets  destroyed,  etc. ;  all  the  bills  per  contra  are 
not  yet  come  in.  Our  writers  have  been  disput- 
ing for  these  hundred  and  sixty-six  years  on  Whig 
and  Tory  principles.  Their  successors,  who  I  sup- 
pose will  continue  the  controversy,  will  please  to 
allow  at  least  that  if  the  Ministers  of  both  parties 
were  equally  complaisant  when  in  power,  the  splen- 
dor of  the  Crown  (I  say  nothing  of  the  happiness 


208         LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

of  the  people,  which  is  never  taken  into  the  account) 
has  constantly  been  augmented  by  Whig  administra- 
tions, and  has  faded  (and  then  and  now  a  little 
more)  when  Tories  have  governed.  The  reason  is 
as  plain :  Whig  principles  are  founded  on  sense ;  a 
Whig  may  be  a  fool,  a  Tory  must  be  so.  The  con- 
sequence is  plain :  a  Whig  when  a  Minister  may 
abandon  his  principles,  but  he  will  retain  his  sense, 
and  will  therefore  not  risk  the  felicity  of  his  pos- 
terity by  sacrificing  everything  to  selfish  views.  A 
Tory  attaining  power  hurries  to  establish  despotism  : 
the  honor,  the  trade,  the  wealth,  the  peace  of  the 
nation,  all  are  little  to  him  in  comparison  of  the 
despotic  will  of  his  master.  But  are  not  you  glad  I 
write  on  small  paper? 


LXVII. 

GENIUS  AND  VILLANY  OF  CHATTERTON. 
To  the  Rev.  William  Mason. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  July  24,  1778. 

I  HAVE  been  two  days  in  town.  What  I  could 
collect  was,  that  the  Congress  will  not  deign  to  send 
any  answer  to  the  commissioners ;  that  Lord  Howe 
refused  to  act  as  one  of  them,  and  that  the  bear 
and  the  monkey  have  quarrelled ;  that  the  Ameri- 
cans have  sent  an  expedition  to  Florida,  and  that 
Washington's  army  is  reduced  to  seven  thousand 
and  is  very  sickly.  One  should  think  the  two  last 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         209 

circumstances  were  invented  to  balance  the  others ; 
but  surely  our  Ministers  ought  at  last  to  exaggerate 
on  the  other  side,  that  things  may  seem  to  turn  out 
better  than  was  expected,  rather  than  worse,  as  hith- 
erto they  have  contrived  to  make  them  appear. 

France  has  not  declared  war;  and  if  the  Brest 
fleet  did  sail,  it  was  not  a  stone's  throw.  I  imagine 
they  wait  for  news  of  D'Estains,  before  they  take 
the  last  step,  or  they  will  draw  Keppel  aside,  and 
then  set  forth  an  embarkation.  I  sometimes  hope 
peace  is  not  impossible.  It  cannot  be  half  so  bad 
as  a  new  war  in  our  present  situation ;  it  would  at 
least  give  us  time  to  prepare  for  war.  We  are  come 
to  the  necessity  of  fortifying  the  island,  or  it  may 
be  lost  in  a  single  battle.  When  we  have  no  longer 
the  superiority  at  sea,  it  would  be  madness  —  it 
would,  it  is,  madness  to  have  no  resource,  no  spot 
where  to  make  a  stand.  But  what  signify  my  poli- 
tics? Who  will  listen  to  them? 

It  is  not  unlucky  that  I  have  got  something  to 
divert  my  mind ;  for  I  can  think  on  other  subjects 
when  I  have  them.  I  am  at  last  forced  to  enter 
into  the  history  of  the  supposed  Rowley's  Poems. 
I  must  write  on  it,  nay,  what  is  more,  print,  not 
directly,  controversially,  but  in  my  own  defence. 
Some  jackanapes  at  Bristol  (I  don't  know  who)  has 
published  Chatterton's  Works ;  and  I  suppose  to 
provoke  me  to  tell  the  story,  accuses  me  of  treating 
that  marvellous  creature  with  contempt ;  which  hav- 
ing supposed,  contrary  to  truth,  he  invites  his  read- 
ers to  feel  indignation  at  me.  It  has  more  than 
once  before  been  insinuated  that  his  disappointment 
14 


210        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

from  me  contributed  to  his  horrid  fate.  You  know 
how  gently  I  treated  him.  He  was  a  consummate 
villain,  and  had  gone  enormous  lengths  before  he 
destroyed  himself.  It  would  be  cruel  indeed  if  one 
was  to  be  deemed  the  assassin  of  every  rogue  that 
miscarries  in  attempting  to  cheat  one ;  in  short,  the 
attack  is  now  too  direct  not  to  be  repelled.  Two 
months  ago  I  did  draw  up  an  account  of  my  share 
in  that  affair.  That  Narrative  and  an  Answer  to 
this  insult,  which  I  wrote  last  night,  I  will  publish, 
signed  with  my  name,  but  not  advertised  by  it.  It 
will  reach  all  those  that  take  part  in  the  controversy, 
and  I  do  not  desire  it  should  go  farther.  These 
things  I  will  have  transcribed,  and  ask  your  leave 
to  send  you  before  they  go  to  the  press.  I  am  in 
no  hurry  to  publish,  nor  is  the  moment  a  decent 
one ;  yet  I  embrace  it,  as  I  shall  be  the  less  talked 
over.  I  hate  controversy,  yet  to  be  silent  now, 
would  be  interpreted  guilt ;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
be  more  innocent  than  I  was  in  that  affair.  Being 
innocent,  I  take  care  not  to  be  angry.  Mr.  Tyr- 
whitt,  one  of  the  enthusiasts  to  Rowley,  has  re- 
canted, and  published  against  the  authenticity  of 
the  Poems.  The  new  publisher  of  Chatterton's  un- 
disputed works  seems  to  question  the  rest  too,  so 
his  attack  on  me  must  be  mere  impertinent  curios- 
ity. One  satisfaction  will  arise  from  all  this :  the 
almost  incredible  genius  of  Chatterton  will  be  as- 
certained. He  had  generally  genuine  powers  of 
poetry;  often  wit,  and  sometimes  natural  humor. 
I  have  seen  reams  of  his  writing,  besides  what  is 
printed.  He  had  a  strong  vein  of  satire  too,  and 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         211 

very  irascible  resentment ;  yet  the  poor  soul  perished 
before  he  was  nineteen  !  He  had  read,  and  written, 
as  if  he  was  fourscore ;  yet  it  cannot  be  discovered 
when  or  where.  He  had  no  more  principles  than 
if  he  had  been  one  of  all  our  late  Administrations. 
He  was  an  instance  that  a  complete  genius  and  a 
complete  rogue  can  be  formed  before  a  man  is  of 
age.  The  world  has  generally  the  honor  of  their 
education,  but  it  is  not  necessary;  you  see  by 
Chatterton  that  an  individual  could  be  as  perfect 
as  a  senate  !  Adieu  ! 


LXVIII. 

EXPRESSION  OF   FILIAL  AFFECTION  AND   FAMILY 
PRIDE. 

To  the  Earl  of  Orford.^ 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Oct.  5,  1778. 
MY  DEAR  LORD,  —  Your   Lordship  is  very  good 
in  thanking  me   for  what   I   could   not  claim  any 

1  Written   in  answer   to  the   following  letter   from   his 
nephew. 


To  the  Hon.  Horace 

ERISWELL,  Oct.  i,  1778. 

SIR,  —  I  write  one  line  to  thank  you  for  your  ready  concurrence 
in  the  measures  I  am  now  pursuing  to  settle  the  affairs  of  the  family 
and  to  satisfy  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  creditors,  and  beg  leave  to 
trouble  you  to  make  my  compliments  and  to  return  my  thanks  also 
to  Sir  Edward. 

If  you  have  a  mind  to  revisit  your  Penates  again,  and  to  see  the 
alterations  I  am  making  in  both  fronts  (I  will  not  call  them  improve- 
ments), I  shall  be  extremely  glad  to  have  your  company  at  Hough- 
ton  on  Monday  fortnight,  the  igth  of  October,  where  I  purpose 
staying  a  week.  I  am,  sir,  with  great  regard,  your  most  obedient 
and  humble  servant,  ORFORD. 


212         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

thanks;  as  in  complying  with  your  request,  and 
assisting  you  to  settle  your  affairs,  according  to 
my  father's  will,  was  not  only  my  duty,  but  to  pro- 
mote your  service  and  benefit,  to  re-establish  the 
affairs  of  my  family,  and  to  conform  myself  to  the 
views  of  the  excellent  man,  the  glory  of  human  na- 
ture, who  made  us  all  what  we  are,  has  been  con- 
stantly one  of  the  principal  objects  of  my  whole 
life.  If  my  labors  and  wishes  have  been  crowned 
with  small  success,  it  has  been  owing  to  my  own  in- 
ability in  the  first  place,  and  next  to  tenderness,  and 
to  the  dirt  and  roguery  of  wretches  below  my  no- 
tice. For  your  Lordship,  I  may  presume  to  say, 
I  have  spared  no  thought,  industry,  solicitude,  ap- 
plication, or  even  health,  when  I  had  the  care  of 
your  affairs.  What  I  did,  and  could  have  done, 
and  should  have  done,  if  you  had  not  thought  fit 
to  prefer  a  most  conceited  and  worthless  fellow,  I 
can  demonstrate  by  reams  of  paper,  that  may,  one 
day  or  other,  prove  what  I  say;  and  which,  if  I 
have  not  yet  done,  it  proceeds  from  the  same  ten- 
derness that  I  have  ever  had  for  your  Lordship's 
tranquillity  and  repose.  To  acquiesce  afterwards 
in  the  arrangement  you  have  proposed  to  me,  is 
small  merit  indeed.  My  honor  is  much  dearer 
to  me  than  fortune,  and  to  contribute  to  your  Lord- 
ship's enjoying  your  fortune  with  credit  and  satis- 
faction, is  a  point  I  would  have  purchased  with  far 
greater  compliances ;  for,  my  Lord,  as  I  flatter  my- 
self that  I  am  not  thought  an  interested  man,  so  all 
who  know  me  know,  that  to  see  the  lustre  of  my 
family  restored  to  the  consideration  to  which  it  was 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          213 

raised  by  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  shining  in  you,  and 
transmitted  to  his  and  your  descendants,  was  the 
only  ambition  that  ever  actuated  me.  No  personal 
advantage  entered  into  those  views ;  and  if  I  say 
thus  much  of  myself  with  truth,  I  owe  still  greater 
justice  to  my  brother,  who  has  many  more  virtues 
than  I  can  pretend  to,  and  is  as  incapable  of  form- 
ing any  mean  and  selfish  wishes  as  any  man  upon 
earth.  We  are  both  old  men  now,  and  without 
sons  to  inspire  us  with  future  visions.  We  wish  to 
leave  your  Lordship  in  as  happy  and  respectable 
situation  as  you  were  born  to ;  and  we  have  both 
given  you  all  the  proof  in  our  power,  by  acquiescing 
in  your  proposal  immediately. 

For  me,  my  Lord,  I  should  with  pleasure  accept 
the  honor  of  waiting  on  you  at  Houghton  at  the 
time  you  mention,  if  my  lameness  and  threats  of 
the  gout  did  not  forbid  my  taking  so  long  a  journey 
at  this  time  of  the  year.  At  sixty-one,  it  would  not 
become  me  to  talk  of  another  year :  perhaps  I  may 
never  go  to  Houghton  again,  till  I  go  thither  for- 
ever; but  without  affectation  of  philosophy,  even 
the  path  to  that  journey  will  be  sweetened  to  me 
if  I  leave  Houghton  the  flourishing  monument  of 
one  of  the  best  Ministers  that  ever  blest  this  once 
flourishing  country. 

I  am,  my  dear  Lord,  yours  most  affectionately. 


214         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


LXIX. 

GRIEF  AT  THE  SALE  OT  THE  HOUGHTON  PICTURES. 
—  DEPRECIATION  OF  GARRICK. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossoty. 

Feb.  i,  1779. 

WHEN  Lord  Ossory  is  in  town,  madam,  I  do  not 
presume  to  think  of  writing.  He  is  more  in  the 
world,  and  hears  everything  sooner  than  I  do ;  nor 
would  it  be  fair  to  him,  to  divide  a  moment  of  your 
time  with  him.  However,  there  were  such  inter- 
esting topics  in  the  letter  I  had  the  honor  of  re- 
ceiving this  evening,  that  I  must  answer  it  directly. 
But  I  shall  waive  the  first  subject,  which  concerns 
myself,  to  come  to  the  last,  that  touches  your  Lady- 
ship ;  and  can  I  but  admire  your  goodness  in  think- 
ing of  me,  when  an  angel  is  inoculated  ?  You  must 
now  continue  it,  for  you  have  promised  I  shall  hear 
how  she  goes  on.  Sweet  little  love  !  you  must  be 
anxious,  though  inoculation  now  can  scarce  be 
called  a  hazard.  It  is  as  sure  as  a  cheat  of  win- 
ning, though  a  strange  run  of  luck  may  once  in  two 
thousand  times  disappoint  him. 

The  pictures  at  Houghton  I  hear,  and  I  fear,  are 
sold  :  what  can  I  say?  I  do  not  like  even  to  think 
on  it.  It  is  the  most  signal  mortification  to  my 
idolatry  for  my  father's  memory  that  it  could  re- 
ceive. It  is  stripping  the  temple  of  his  glory  and 
of  his  affection.  A  madman  excited  by  rascals  has 
burned  his  Ephesus.  I  must  never  cast  a  thought 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         215 

towards  Norfolk  more,  nor  will  hear  my  nephew's 
name  if  I  can  avoid  it.  Him  I  can  only  pity; 
though  it  is  strange  he  should  recover  any  degree 
of  sense,  and  never  any  of  feeling  !  I  could  have 
saved  my  family,  but  cannot  repent  the  motives  that 
bound  my  hands.  If  any  unhappy  lunatic  is  ever 
the  better  for  my  conduct  and  example,  it  is  prefer- 
able to  a  collection  of  pictures. 

Yes,  madam,  I  do  think  the  pomp  of  Garrick's 
funeral  perfectly  ridiculous.  It  is  confounding  the 
immense  space  between  pleasing  talents  and  na- 
tional services.  What  distinctions  remain  for  a 
patriot  hero  when  the  most  solemn  have  been 
showered  on  a  player?  But  when  a  great  empire 
is  on  its  decline,  one  symptom  is,  there  being  more 
eagerness  on  trifles  than  on  essential  objects.  Shak- 
speare,  who  wrote  when  Burleigh  counselled  and 
Nottingham  fought,  was  not  rewarded  and  hon- 
ored like  Garrick,  who  only  acted  when  —  indeed  I 
do  not  know  who  has  counselled  and  who  has  fought. 

I  do  not  at  all  mean  to  detract  from  Garrick's 
merit,  who  was  a  real  genius  in  his  way,  and  who, 
I  believe,  was  never  equalled  in  both  tragedy  and 
comedy.  Still,  I  cannot  think  that  acting,  however 
perfectly,  what  others  have  written,  is  one  of  the 
most  astonishing  talents ;  yet  I  will  own  as  fairly 
that  Mrs.  Porter  and  Mademoiselle  Dumesnil  have 
struck  me  so  much  as  even  to  reverence  them. 
Garrick  never  affected  me  quite  so  much  as  those 
two  actresses,  and  some  few  others  in  particular 
parts  :  as  Quin,  in  Falstaff ;  King,  in  Lord  Ogleby ; 
Mrs.  Pritchard,  in  Maria,  in  the  "  Nonjuror ;  "  Mrs. 


216         LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

Clive,  in  Mrs.  Cadvvallader ;  and  Mrs.  Abington,  in 
Lady  Teazle.  They  all  seemed  the  very  persons. 
I  suppose  that  in  Garrick  I  thought  I  saw  more  of 
his  art ;  yet  his  Lear,  Richard,  Hotspur  (which  the 
town  had  not  taste  enough  to  like),  Kitely,  and 
Ranger,  were  as  capital  and  perfect  as  action  could 
be.  In  declamation,  I  confess,  he  never  charmed 
me  :  nor  could  he  be  a  gentleman ;  his  Lord  Town- 
ley  and  Lord  Hastings  were  mean,  —  but  then  too 
the  parts  are  indifferent,  and  do  not  call  for  a 
master's  exertion. 

I  should  shock  Garrick's  devotees  if  I  uttered  all 
my  opinion :  I  will  trust  your  Ladyship  with  it,  — 
it  is,  that  Le  Texier  is  twenty  times  the  genius. 
What  comparison  between  the  powers  that  do  the 
fullest  justice  to  a  single  part,  and  those  that  in- 
stantaneously can  fill  a  whole  piece,  and  transform 
themselves  with  equal  perfection  into  men  and  wo- 
men, and  pass  from  laughter  to  tears,  and  make 
you  shed  the  latter  at  both?  Garrick,  when  he 
made  one  laugh,  was  not  always  judicious,  though 
excellent.  What  idea  did  his  Sir  John  Brute  give 
of  a  surly  husband?  His  Bayes  was  no  less  enter- 
taining ;  but  it  was  a  Garretteer-bard.  Old  Gibber 
preserved  the  solemn  coxcomb,  and  was  the  carica- 
ture of  a  great  poet,  as  the  part  was  designed  to  be. 

Half  I  have  said,  I  know,  is  heresy ;  but  fashion 
had  gone  to  excess,  though  very  rarely  with  so 
much  reason.  Applause  had  turned  his  head,  and 
yet  he  was  never  content  even  with  that  prodi- 
gality. His  jealousy  and  envy  were  unbounded. 
He  hated  Mrs.  Clive  till  she  quitted  the  stage,  and 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         217 

then  cried  her  up  to  the  skies  to  depress  Mrs. 
Abington.  He  did  not  love  Mrs.  Pritchard,  —  and 
with  more  reason ;  for  there  was  more  spirit  and 
originality  in  her  Beatrice  than  in  his  Benedick. 

But  if  the  town  did  not  admire  his  acting  more 
than  it  deserved,  which  indeed  in  general  it  was 
difficult  to  do,  what  do  you  think,  madam,  of  its 
prejudice  even  for  his  writings  ?  What  stuff  was  his 
Jubilee  Ode,  and  how  paltry  his  Prologues  and  Epi- 
logues !  I  have  always  thought  that  he  was  just  the 
counterpart  of  Shakspeare,  —  this,  the  first  of  writers 
and  an  indifferent  actor;  that,  the  first  of  actors 
and  a  woful  author.  Posterity  would  believe  me, 
who  will  see  only  his  writings ;  and  who  will  see 
those  of  another  modern  idol  far  less  deservedly 
enshrined,  —  Dr.  Johnson.  I  have  been  saying 
this  morning  that  the  latter  deals  so  much  in  triple 
tautology,  or  the  fault  of  repeating  the  same  sense 
in  three  different  phrases,  that  I  believe  it  would 
be  possible,  taking  the  groundwork  for  all  three, 
to  make  one  of  his  "  Ramblers  "  into  three  different 
papers  that  should  all  have  exactly  the  same  pur- 
port and  meaning,  but  in  different  phrases.  It 
would  be  a  good  trick  for  somebody  to  produce 
one  and  read  it ;  a  second  would  say,  "  Bless  me  ! 
I  have  this  very  paper  in  my  pocket,  but  in  quite 
other  diction ;  "  and  so  a  third. 

Our  lord  has  been  so  good  as  to  call  on  me  again, 
and  'found  me  ;  but  I  take  for  granted  will  make 
his  little  Gertrude  a  visit  to-morrow,  though  prob- 
ably not  bring  your  Ladyship  with  him  till  she  is 
recovered.  I  am  in  no  pain,  even  for  her  beauty. 


2l8         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

As  the  court-martial  is  likely  to  end  this  week,  I 
suppose  the  parliamentary  campaign  will  be  warmly 
renewed  the  next ;  but  what  campaign  will  restore 
this  country  to  its  greatness?  It  is  blotted  out  of 
the  list  of  mighty  empires,  and  they  who  love  pro- 
cessions may  make  a  splendid  funeral  for  it !  But 
indeed  it  was  buried  last  year  with  Lord  Chatham, 
at  whose  interment  there  were  not  half  the  noble 
coaches  that  attended  Garrick's  ! 


LXX. 

NEW  DIFFICULTIES   IN  THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE 
AMERICAN  WAR. 

To  the  Countess  of  Aylesbury. 

Saturday  Night,  July  IO,  1779. 

I  COULD  not  thank  your  Ladyship  before  the  post 
went  out  to-day,  as  I  was  getting  into  my  chaise  to 
go  and  dine  at  Carshalton  with  my  cousin  Thomas 
Walpole  when  I  received  your  kind  inquiry  about 
my  eye.  It  is  quite  well  again,  and  I  hope  the 
next  attack  of  the  gout  will  be  anywhere  rather  than 
in  that  quarter. 

I  did  not  expect  Mr.  Conway  would  think  of 
returning  just  now.  As  you  have  lost  both  Mrs. 
Darner  and  Lady  William  Campbell,  I  do  not  see 
why  your  Ladyship  should  not  go  to  Goodwood. 

The  Baroness's  increasing  peevishness  does  not 
surprise  me.  When  people  will  not  weed  their  own 
minds,  they  are  apt  to  be  overrun  with  nettles. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.          219 

She  knows  nothing  of  politics,  and  no  wonder  talks 
nonsense  about  them.  It  is  silly  to  wish  three 
nations  had  but  one  neck ;  but  it  is  ten  times  more 
absurd  to  act  as  if  it  was  so,  which  the  government 
has  done,  —  ay,  and  forgetting,  too,  that  it  has  not 
a  scimitar  large  enough  to  sever  that  neck,  which 
they  have  in  effect  made  one.  It  is  past  the  time, 
madam,  of  making  conjectures.  How  can  one 
guess  whither  France  and  Spain  will  direct  a  blow 
that  is  in  their  option?  I  am  rather  inclined  to 
think  that  they  will  have  patience  to  ruin  us  in 
detail.  Hitherto  France  and  America  have  carried 
their  points  by  that  manoeuvre.  Should  there  be 
an  engagement  at  sea,  and  the  French  and  Spanish 
fleets,  by  their  great  superiority,  have  the  advantage, 
one  knows  not  what  might  happen.  Yet,  though 
there  are  such  large  preparations  making  on  the 
French  coast,  I  do  not  much  expect  a  serious  in- 
vasion, as  they  are  sure  they  can  do  us  more 
damage  by  a  variety  of  other  attacks,  where  we 
can  make  little  resistance.  Gibraltar  and  Jamaica 
can  but  be  the  immediate  objects  of  Spain.  Ireland 
is  much  worse  guarded  than  this  island,  —  nay,  we 
must  be  undone  by  our  expense,  should  the  summer 
pass  without  any  attempt.  My  cousin  thinks  they 
will  try  to  destroy  Portsmouth  and  Plymouth;  but 
I  have  seen  nothing  in  the  present  French  Ministry 
that  looks  like  bold  enterprise.  We  are  much 
more  adventurous,  that  set  everything  to  the  hazard  ; 
but  there  are  such  numbers  of  baronesses  that  both 
talk  and  act  with  passion  that  one  would  think 
the  nation  had  lost  its  senses. 


220         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

Everything  has  miscarried  that  has  been  under- 
taken,  and   the    worse   we   succeed,    the   more   is 
risked ;    yet  the  nation  is  not  angry  !     How  can 
one  conjecture  during  such  a  delirium?     I  some- 
times almost  think  I  must  be  in  the  wrong  to  be  of 
so  contrary  an  opinion   to  most  men;   yet  when 
every  misfortune  that  has  happened  had  been  fore- 
told by  a  few,  why  should  I  not  think  I  have  been 
in  the  right?     Has  not  almost  every  single   event 
that  has  been  announced  as  prosperous  proved  a 
gross  falsehood,  and  often  a  silly  one?      Are  we 
not  at  this  moment  assured  that  Washington  cannot 
possibly  amass  an  army  of  above  eight  thousand 
men?    And  yet  Clinton,  with  twenty  thousand  men, 
and  with  the  hearts,  as  we  are  told,  too,  of  three 
parts  of  the  colonies,  dares  not  show  his  teeth  with- 
out the  walls  of  New  York  !     Can  I  be  in  the  wrong 
in  not  believing  what  is  so  contradictory  to  my 
senses?     We  could  not  conquer  America  when  it 
stood  alone;    then  France   supported  it,  and  we 
did  not  mend  the  matter.     To  make  it  still  easier, 
we  have  driven  Spain  into  the  alliance.     Is  this 
wisdom?     Would  it  be  presumption,  even  if  one 
were  single,  to  think  that  we  must  have  the  worst 
in  such  a  contest?     Shall  I  be  like  the  mob,  and 
expect  to  conquer   France  and   Spain,   and   then 
thunder  upon  America?     Nay,  but  the  higher  mob 
do  not  expect  such  success.     They  would  not  be 
so  angry  at  the  house  of  Bourbon,  if  not  morally 
certain  that  those  kings  destroy  all  our  passionate 
desire  and  expectation  of  conquering  America.    We 
bullied  and  threatened   and  begged,  and  nothing 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          221 

would  do.  Yet  independence  was  still  the  word. 
Now  we  rail  at  the  two  monarchs ;  and  when  they 
have  banged  us,  we  shall  sue  to  them  as  humbly  as 
we  did  to  the  Congress.  All  this  my  senses,  such 
as  they  are,  tell  me  has  been  and  will  be  the  case. 
What  is  worse,  all  Europe  is  of  the  same  opinion ; 
and  though  forty  thousand  baronesses  may  be  ever 
so  angry,  I  venture  to  prophesy  that  we  shall  make 
but  a  very  foolish  figure  whenever  we  are  so  lucky 
as  to  obtain  a  peace  ;  and  posterity,  that  may  have 
prejudices  of  its  own,  will  still  take  the  liberty  to 
pronounce  that  its  ancestors  were  a  woful  set  of 
politicians  from  the  year  1774  to —  I  wish  I 
knew  when. 

If  I  might  advise,  I  would  recommend  Mr.  Burrell 
to  command  the  fleet  in  the  room  of  Sir  Charles 
Hardy.  The  fortune  of  the  Burrells  is  powerful 
enough  to  baffle  calculation.  Good  night,  madam  ! 

P.  S. — I  have  not  written  to  Mr.  Conway  since 
this  day  sevennight,  not  having  a  teaspoonful  of 
news  to  send  him.  I  will  beg  your  Ladyship  to  tell 
him  so. 


222          LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE, 
LXXI. 

EUROPE  PAYING  ITS  DEBTS  TO  AMERICA. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Dec.  31,  1780. 

I  HAVE  received  and  thank  you  much  for  the 
curious  history1  of  the  Count  and  Countess  of 
Albany ;  what  a  wretched  conclusion  of  a  wretched 
family  !  Surely  no  royal  race  was  ever  so  drawn 
to  the  dregs  !  The  other  Countess  [Orford]  you 
mention  seems  to  approach  still  nearer  to  dissolu- 
tion. Her  death  a  year  or  two  ago  might  have 
prevented  the  sale  of  the  pictures,  —  not  that  I 
know  it  would.  Who  can  say  what  madness  in  the 
hands  of  villany  would  or  would  not  have  done? 
Now  I  think  her  dying  would  only  put  more  into 
the  reach  of  rascals.  But  I  am  indifferent  what 
they  do;  nor,  but  thus  occasionally,  shall  I  throw 
away  a  thought  on  that  chapter. 

All  chance  of  accommodation  with  Holland  is 
vanished.  Count  Welderen  and  his  wife  departed 
this  morning.  All  they  who  are  to  gain  by  priva- 
teers and  captures  are  delighted  with  a  new  field  of 
plunder.  Piracy  is  more  practicable  than  victory. 

1  The  Pretender's  wife  complaining  to  the  Great  Duke  of 
her  husband's  beastly  behavior  to  her,  that  prince  contrived 
her  escape  into  a  convent,  and  thence  sent  her  to  Rome, 
where  she  was  protected  by  the  Cardinal  of  York,  her 
husband's  brother. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.  223 

Not  being  an  admirer  of  wars,  I  shall  reserve  my 
feux  de  joie  for  peace. 

My  letters,  I  think,  are  rather  eras  than  journals. 
Three  days  ago  commenced  another  date,  —  the 
establishment  of  a  family  for  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
I  do  not  know  all  the  names,  and  fewer  of  the  faces 
that  compose  it;  nor  intend.  I,  who  kissed  the 
hand  of  George  I.,  have  no  colt's  tooth  for  the 
court  of  George  IV.  Nothing  is  so  ridiculous  as 
an  antique  face  in  a  juvenile  drawing-room.  I  be- 
lieve that  they  who  have  spirits  enough  to  be  absurd 
in  their  decrepitude  are  happy,  for  they  certainly 
are  not  sensible  of  their  folly ;  but  I,  who  have 
never  forgotten  what  I  thought  in  my  youth  of  such 
superannuated  idiots,  dread  nothing  more  than 
misplacing  myself  in  my  old  age.  In  truth,  I  feel 
no  such  appetite ;  and  excepting  the  young  of  my 
own  family,  about  whom  I  am  interested,  I  have 
mighty  small  satisfaction  in  the  company  of  pos- 
terity, —  for  so  the  present  generation  seem  to  me. 
I  would  contribute  anything  to  their  pleasure  but 
what  cannot  contribute  to  it,  —  my  own  presence. 
Alas  !  how  many  of  this  age  are  swept  away  before 
me  ;  six  thousand  have  been  mowed  down  at  once 
by  the  late  hurricane  at  Barbadoes  alone  !  How 
Europe  is  paying  the  debts  it  owes  to  America  ! 
Were  I  a  poet,  I  would  paint  hosts  of  Mexicans  and 
Peruvians  crowding  the  shores  of  Styx,  and  insult- 
ing the  multitudes  of  the  usurpers  of  their  continent 
that  have  been  sending  themselves  thither  for  these 
five  or  six  years.  The  poor  Africans,  too,  have  no 
call  to  be  merciful  to  European  ghosts.  Those 


224         LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE. 

miserable  slaves  have  just  now  seen  whole  crews  of 
men-of-war  swallowed  by  the  late  hurricane. 

We  do  not  yet  know  the  extent  of  our  loss.  You 
would  think  it  very  slight  if  you  saw  how  little 
impression  it  makes  on  a  luxurious  capital.  An 
overgrown  metropolis  has  less  sensibility  than  mar- 
ble ;  nor  can  it  be  conceived  by  those  not  con- 
versant in  one.  I  remember  hearing  what  diverted 
me  then  :  a  young  gentlewoman,  a  native  of  our 
rock,  St.  Helena,  arid  who  had  never  stirred  beyond 
it,  being  struck  with  the  emotion  occasioned  there 
by  the  arrival  of  one  or  two  of  our  China  ships,  said 
to  the  captain,  "  There  must  be  a  great  solitude  in 
London  as  often  as  the  China  ships  come  away  !  " 
Her  imagination  could  not  have  compassed  the 
idea  if  she  had  been  told  that  six  years  of  war,  the 
absence  of  an  army  of  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  men 
and  of  all  our  squadrons,  and  a  new  debt  of  many, 
many  millions,  would  not  make  an  alteration  in  the 
receipts  at  the  door  of  a  single  theatre  in  London. 
I  do  not  boast  of  or  applaud  this  profligate  apathy. 
When  pleasure  is  our  business,  our  business  is  never 
our  pleasure ;  and  if  four  wars  cannot  awaken  us, 
we  shall  die  in  a  dream  ! 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          225 

LXXIL 

JOHNSON'S  CRITICISM  ON   GRAY.  —  GIBBON'S  QUARREL. 

To  the  Rev.   William  Mason. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Jan.z-],  1781. 

MR.  GILPIN  has  sent  me  his  book  and  dedication. 
I  thank  you  for  the  latter  being  so  moderate,  yet 
he  talks  of  my  researches,  which  makes  me  smile ; 
I  know,  as  Gray  would  have  said,  how  little  I  have 
researched,  and  what  slender  pretensions  are  mine 
to  so  pompous  a  term.  A  propos  to  Gray,  John- 
son's Life,  or  rather  criticism  on  his  Odes,  is  come 
out,  —  a  most  wretched,  dull,  tasteless,  verbal  criti- 
cism ;  yet  timid  too.  But  he  makes  amends,  —  he 
admires  Thomson  and  Akenside,  and  Sir  Richard 
Blackmore,  and  has  reprinted  Dennis's  "  Criticism 
on  Cato,"  to  save  time  and  swell  his  pay.  In  short, 
as  usual,  he  has  proved  that  he  has  no  more  ear 
than  taste.  Mrs.  Montagu  and  all  her  Maenades 
intend  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb  for  despising 
their  moppet  Lord  Lyttelton. 

You  will  be  diverted  to  hear  that  Mr.  Gibbon  has 
quarrelled  with  me.  He  lent  me  his  second  volume 
in  the  middle  of  November.  I  returned  it  with  a 
most  civil  panegyric.  He  came  for  more  incense. 
I  gave  it ;  but,  alas  !  with  too  much  sincerity,  I 
added,  "  Mr.  Gibbon,  I  am  sorry  you  should  have 
pitched  on  so  disgusting  a  subject  as  the  Constanti- 
nopolitan  History.  There  is  so  much  of  the  Arians 


226         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

and  Eunomians  and  semi- Pelagians,  and  there  is 
such  a  strange  contrast  between  Roman  and  Gothic 
manners,  and  so  little  harmony  between  a  Consul 
Sabinus  and  a  Ricimer,  duke  of  the  palace,  that 
though  you  have  written  the  story  as  well  as  it 
could  be  written,  I  fear  few  will  have  patience  to 
read  it."  He  colored ;  all  his  round  features 
squeezed  themselves  into  sharp  angles,  he  screwed 
up  his  button  mouth,  and  rapping  his  snuff-box, 
said,  "  It  had  never  been  put  together  before,"  — 
so  well  he  meant  to  add,  but  gulped  it.  He 
meant  so  well  certainly;  for  Tillemont,  whom  he 
quotes  in  every  page,  has  done  the  very  thing. 
Well,  from  that  hour  to  this  I  have  never  seen  him, 
though  he  used  to  call  once  or  twice  a  week,  nor 
has  sent  me  the  third  volume,  as  he  promised.  I 
well  knew  his  vanity,  even  about  his  ridiculous  face 
and  person,  but  thought  he  had  too  much  sense  to 
avow  it  so  palpably.  The  "  History  "  is  admirably 
written,  especially  in  the  characters  of  Julian  and 
Athanasius,  in  both  which  he  has  piqued  himself  on 
impartiality;  but  the  style  is  far  less  sedulously 
enamelled  than  the  first  volume,  and  there  is  flattery 
to  the  Scots  that  would  choke  anything  but  Scots, 
who  can  gobble  feathers  as  readily  as  thistles. 
David  Hume  and  Adam  Smith  are  legislators  and 
sages;  but  the  homage  is  intended  for  his  patron, 
Lord  Loughborough. 

So  much  for  literature  and  its  fops  !  except  what 
interests  me  a  thousand  times  more,  and  which  I 
kept  for  the  bonne  bouche,  your  "  Fresnoy "  and 
fourth  "  Garden ;  "  I  shall  certainly  ask  for  the  former 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          227 

the  instant  I  return  (for  I  go  to-morrow  to  Park 
Place,  to  see  Mr.  Conway,  who  cannot  yet  get  to 
town),  but  not  to  interfere  a  moment  with  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  who  will  execute  his  task  so  well. 
I  long  too  for  the  "Garden."  I  beg  to  recom- 
mend a  note  to  you  :  last  year  a  man  at  Turnham 
Green  fixed  up  a  board  with  this  notice,  —  Ready 
made  Temples  sold  here.  I  would  put  over  the  con- 
vocation, Ready  made  Priests  sold  here.  The  Turn- 
hamite  now  sells  only  curricles  and  whiskeys. 

If  my  gazette  is  long,  remember  you  ordered  me 
to  amuse  Mr.  Palgrave.  I  am  glad  you  have  him, 
and  will  do  anything  I  can  to  fix  him  with  you ; 
pray  assure  him  how  much  I  am  his.  I  can  say 
no  more,  for  I  have  not  left  half  room  to  thank  you 
for  your  very  kind  promise  of  coming  to  me  in  the 
spring.  It  amply  compensates  my  disappointment 
of  seeing  you  here ;  here  I  only  get  a  snatch  of  you 
for  an  instant,  nowhere  I  have  enough  of  you. 
And  which  I  lament  more,  for  I  am  not  selfish,  the 
world  has  not  enough  of  you,  —  you  know  what  I 
mean. 

LXXIII. 

SELF-CRITICISM  AS  AN  AUTHOR. 
To  John  Henderson,  Esq.1 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  April 16,  1781. 
EVER  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  here, 
I  have  been  uneasy  at  what  you  told  me,  of  having 
1  A  celebrated  actor,  sometimes  called  the  Irish  Crichton. 


228          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

seen  an  extract  of  my  tragedy1  in  a  work  going 
to  be  published.  Though  I  was  so  imprudent  as  to 
print  and  give  away  some  copies  of  it,  and  conse- 
quently exposed  myself  to  the  risk  of  what  is 
happening,  yet  I  heartily  wish  I  could  prevent  that 
publication,  as  it  will  occasion  discourse  about  the 
play,  which  is  disgusting  from  the  subject,  and 
absurd  from  being  totally  unfit  for  the  stage,  —  a 
reason  which,  could  I  have  succeeded  better,  ought 
still  to  have  restrained  me  from  undertaking  it. 

May  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  you  if  you  think 
it  could  be  stopped?  I  should  be  willing  to  pay 
for  my  folly.  Do  not  answer  me  by  a  compliment, 
nor  tell  me,  as  civility  may  perhaps  dictate,  that  it 
would  be  pity  to  deprive  the  public  of  such  &  jewel. 
Pray  do  not  think  that  I  seek  for,  or  should  like, 
such  an  hyperbole.  I  use  the  word  "jewel  "  most 
ironically,  and  do  not  imagine  that  a  pebble  with  a 
great  flaw  through  the  whole  can  have  much  lustre. 
There  is  no  affectation  in  this  request.  I  have  be- 
trayed but  too  much  vanity  in  printing  what  I  knew 
had  such  capital  faults ;  but  I  am  too  old  now  not  to 
fear  disgusting  the  public  more  than  I  can  flatter 
myself  with  its  approbation.  Yet  the  impression  of 
only  a  small  number  of  copies  at  first,  will  prove 
that  when  several  years  younger,  I  was  conscious  of 
the  imperfections  of  my  tragedy,  and  gave  them 
only  to  those  who  I  knew  were  partial  to  me. 
There  are  many  defects  in  the  execution  as  well  as 
in  the  subject;  but  when  the  materials  are  ill 
chosen,  what  would  it  avail  to  retouch  the  fashion  ? 
i  The  Mysterious  Mother. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          229 

Nor,  though  I  have  sometimes  written  verses,  did  I 
ever  think  that  I  was  born  a  poet. 

In  short,  sir,  I  most  sincerely  wish  to  have  the 
publication  cf  any  part  of  the  play  prevented,  and 
you  will  oblige  me  exceedingly  if  you  can  assist  me. 
Perhaps  it  is  asking  too  great  a  favor  when  I  beg 
you  to  take  that  trouble ;  if  it  is,  only  let  me  know 
the  editor,  and  I  will  undertake  the  task  myself. 

I  am,  sir,  with  great  regard,  your  obedient,  hum- 
ble servant. 


LXXIV. 

DIFFERS  WITH   LADY  OSSORY  ON  THE   AMERICAN 
QUESTION. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Nov.  6,  1781. 

I  BELIEVE  I  am  very  dull,  or  quite  blinded  by 
prejudice,  for  I  confess  I  do  not  feel  the  force  of 
your  Ladyship's  arguments.  Are  men  in  the  right 
to  take  up  arms  in  self-defence,  and  in  the  wrong 
to  declare  themselves  independent?  Is  resistance 
by  force  a  thing  indifferent,  and  the  declaration  in 
words  a  crime  ?  Methinks  by  that  rule  all  who 
joined  the  Prince  of  Orange  were  justifiable,  but 
ceased  to  be  so  the  moment  King  James  was  de- 
throned. Thus  men  ought  to  offend  a  king,  but 
never  to  punish  him  !  I  believe  their  Majesties 
would  agree  to  that  compromise. 

I  can  as  little  subscribe  to  the  position  that  it  is 


230        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

the  duty  of  an  officer  to  obey  his  king,  whatever 
may  be  the  officer's  opinions.  Were  that  maxim 
true,  no  conscientious  man  can  accept  a  commission 
if  it  dissolves  the  obligation  of  his  conscience. 
Those  very  loyal  instruments,  the  bells  of  a  parish 
church,  do  allow  a  precedence  to  God.  Fear  God, 
honor  the  King.  But  I  am  talking  politics  and  argu- 
ing, —  two  things  I  do  not  love.  I  am  almost  afraid 
to  tell  you  news  on  that  subject,  as  I  doubt  your 
Ladyship  is  less  and  less  likely  to  recover  your 
share  of  sovereignty  over  America.  Lord  Graham 
and  Lord  Sefton,  who  have  been  in  town,  tell  me 
that  the  accounts  brought  by  Colonel  Conway  are 
very  bad  indeed.  I  did  see  him  himself  on  Satur- 
day at  Ditton,  on  his  way  to  Windsor ;  but  he  was  so 
discreet  as  to  say  nothing  but  that  what  he  brought 
was  not  very  good,  —  that  the  French  have  thirty- 
seven  ships,  and  we  twenty-three ;  that  the  former 
have  landed  four  thousand  men,  and  evacuated 
Rhode  Island,  and  taken  two  of  our  best  frigates 
(the  papers  say  three) .  But  it  is  not  true  that  two 
regiments  have  been  cut  to  pieces,  for  the  Forty- 
fifth,  one  of  the  named,  is  in  England.  He  did  say 
that  your  friend  Lord  Cornwallis  has  the  back  country 
open  to  him,  and  he  did  not  add,  what  Lord  Sefton 
tells  me  is  said,  that  he  had  provisions  but  for  six 
weeks.  We  shall  close,  I  believe  and  hope,  Madam, 
in  wishing  an  end  to  this  destruction  of  the  species ; 
nor  can  the  most  loyal,  I  suppose,  think  that  even 
the  dependence  of  America  was  worth  purchasing 
at  the  expense  of  thousands  of  lives,  of  forty  millions 
of  money,  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  sea,  and  of  the 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        231 

loss  of  America  itself.  We  were  naturally  trades- 
men, and  had  better  have  borne  a  few  affronts  than 
asserted  the  point  of  honor  at  so  dear  a  rate. 

It  is  very  far  from  true,  madam,  that  I  write 
either  prologue  or  epilogue  to  the  "  Count  of  Nar- 
bonne."  I  could  no  more  compose  twenty  verses 
than  I  could  dance  a  hornpipe.  My  faculties  are 
as  delabrees  as  my  limbs,  and  these  are  deplorable. 
My  nerves  are  so  shattered  that  the  clapping  of  a 
door  makes  me  tremble ;  and  this  poor  hand  that 
is  writing  to  you  has  long  lost  the  use  of  three  of 
its  joints,  and  I  fear  will  quite  desert  me.  I  have 
now,  and  have  had  all  the  summer,  the  gout  in 
the  fourth  finger.  Thus  my  person  is  as  antiquated 
as  my  political  opinions  ! 

I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Selwyn  for  half  a  century. 
He  has  the  mal  a  propos  almost  as  strongly  as  the 
a  propos.  Others,  with  more  malice,  say  they  per- 
ceive a  likeness  to  the  Lord  William.  Miss  Lloyd 
is  full  as  like  to  Lady  Sarah.  Miss  Bunbury  has 
a  great  deal  of  the  Lennoxes,  —  not  so  handsome, 
but  with  a  much  prettier  person  than  any  of  the 
females  of  the  family. 

Genealogist  as  I  am,  I  cannot  make  out,  madam, 
how  Miss  Sackville  is  Lord  Mansfield's  niece.  You 
say  you  do  not  entirely  believe  that  his  Lordship 
gave  away  his  niece.  Cela  me  passe.  To  weep  at 
weddings  I  know  is  of  ancient  custom,  as  much  as 
double  entendresy  —  a  ceremonial,  the  former,  of 
which  I  never  knew  the  origin.  The  more  and  the 
longer  a  fashion  prevails,  the  less  sense  there  com- 
monly is  in  it.  Thence  solutionists,  like  etymolo- 


232        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

gists,   seldom   hit   on    the    true   foundation,    both 
hunting  for  some  meaning. 

I  recollect  how  prolix  my  last  was ;  and  though 
you  are  too  civil  to  tell  me,  madam,  of  that  other 
symptom  of  my  dotage,  I  am  aware  of  it  myself, 
and  wish  you  good-night. 


LXXV. 

ON  THE  SURRENDER  OF  CORNWALLIS  AT  YORKTOWN. 
7*    Ou   Earl  of  StrafforeL 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Nm.  27, 1781. 
EACH  fresh  mark  of  your  Lordship's  kindness  and 
friendship  calls  on  me  for  thanks  and  an  answer; 
every  other  reason  would  enjoin  me  silence.  I  not 
only  grow  so  old,  but  the  symptoms  of  age  increase 
so  fast,  that  as  they  advise  me  to  keep  out  of  the 
world,  that  retirement  makes  me  less  fit  to  be  in- 
forming or  entertaining.  The  philosophers  who 
have  sported  on  the  verge  of  the  tomb,  or  they 
who  have  affected  to  sport  in  the  same  situation, 
both  tacitly  implied  that  it  was  not  out  of  their 
thoughts ;  and  however  dear  what  we  are  going  to 
leave  may  be,  all  that  is  not  particularly  dear  must 
cease  to  interest  us  much.  If  those  reflections 
blend  themselves  with  our  gayest  thoughts,  must 
not  their  hue  grow  more  dusky  when  public  mis- 
fortunes and  disgrace  cast  a  general  shade?  The 
age,  it  is  true,  soon  emerges  out  of  every  gloom, 
and  wantons  as  before.  But  does  not  that  levity 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        233 

imprint  a  still  deeper  melancholy  on  those  who  do 
think  ?  Have  any  of  our  calamities  corrected  us  ? 
Are  we  not  revelling  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice  ? 
Does  administration  grow  more  sage,  or  desire  that 
we  should  grow  more  sober?  Are  these  themes  for 
letters,  my  dear  Lord?  Can  one  repeat  common 
news  with  indifference,  while  our  shame  is  writing 
for  future  history  by  the  pens  of  all  our  numerous 
enemies?  When  did  England  see  two  whole  armies 
lay  down  their  arms  and  surrender  themselves 
prisoners?  Can  venal  addresses  efface  such  stigmas, 
that  will  be  recorded  in  every  country  in  Europe? 
Or  will  such  disgraces  have  no  consequences?  Is 
not  America  lost  to  us?  Shall  we  offer  up  more 
human  victims  to  the  demon  of  obstinacy;  and 
shall  we  tax  ourselves  deeper  to  furnish  out  the 
sacrifice?  These  are  thoughts  I  cannot  stifle  at  the 
moment  that  enforces  them ;  and  though  I  do  not 
doubt  but  the  same  spirit  of  dissipation  that  has 
swallowed  up  all  our  principles  will  reign  again  in 
three  days  with  its  wonted  sovereignty,  I  had  rather 
be  silent  than  vent  my  indignation.  Yet  I  cannot 
talk,  for  I  cannot  think,  on  any  other  subject.  It 
was  not  six  days  ago  that,  in  the  height  of  four 
raging  wars,  I  saw  in  the  papers  an  account  of  the 
opera  and  of  the  dresses  of  the  company;  and 
thence  the  town,  and  thence  of  course  the  whole 
nation,  were  informed  that  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  had 
very  little  powder  in  his  hair. 

Would  not  one  think  that  our  newspapers  were 
penned  by  boys  just  come  from  school,  for  the  in- 
formation of  their  sisters  and  cousins  ?  Had  we  had 


234        LETTERS  OF   HORACE    WALPOLE. 

"  Gazettes  "  and  "  Morning  Posts  "  in  those  days, 
would  they  have  been  filled  with  such  tittle-tattle 
after  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  or  in  the  more  re- 
sembling weeks  after  the  battle  of  Naseby?  Did 
the  French  trifle  equally  even  during  the  ridiculous 
war  of  the  Fronde  ?  If  they  were  as  impertinent 
then,  at  least  they  had  wit  in  their  levity.  We  are 
monkeys  in  conduct,  and  as  clumsy  as  bears  when 
we  try  to  gambol.  Oh,  my  Lord,  I  have  no 
patience  with  my  country,  and  shall  leave  it  with- 
out regret !  Can  we  be  proud  when  all  Europe 
scorns  us  ?  It  was  wont  to  envy  us,  sometimes  to 
hate  us,  but  never  despised  us  before.  James  the 
First  was  contemptible,  but  he  did  not  lose  an 
America.  His  eldest  grandson  sold  us,  his  younger 
lost  us ;  but  we  kept  ourselves.  Now  we  have 
run  to  meet  the  ruin  —  and  it  is  coming ! 

I  beg  your  Lordship's  pardon  if  I  have  said  too 
much ;  but  I  do  not  believe  I  have.  You  have 
never  sold  yourself,  and  therefore  have  not  been 
accessory  to  our  destruction.  You  must  be  happy 
now  not  to  have  a  son,  who  would  live  to  grovel 
in  the  dregs  of  England.  Your  Lordship  has  long 
been  so  wise  as  to  secede  from  the  follies  of  your 
countrymen.  May  you  and  Lady  Strafford  long 
enjoy  the  tranquillity  that  has  been  your  option  even 
in  better  days ;  and  may  you  amuse  yourself  with- 
out giving  loose  to  such  reflections  as  have  over- 
flowed in  this  letter  from  your  devoted,  humble 
servant ! 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         235 
LXXVI. 

A  VISIT    FROM   A  LEARNED  EDITOR  OF   SHAKSPEARE. 
To  the  Rev.  William   Cole. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Jan.  27,  1782. 

FOR  these  three  weeks  I  have  had  the  gout  in 
my  left  elbow  and  hand,  and  can  yet  but  just  bear 
to  lay  the  latter  on  the  paper  while  I  write  with 
the  other.  However,  this  is  no  complaint,  for  it  is 
the  shortest  fit  I  have  had  these  sixteen  years,  and 
with  trifling  pain ;  therefore,  as  the  fits  decrease,  it 
does  ample  honor  to  my  bootikins,  regimen,  and 
method.  Next  to  my  bootikins,  I  ascribe  much 
credit  to  a  diet-drink  of  dock-roots,  of  which  Dr. 
Turton  asked  me  for  the  receipt,  as  the  best  he 
had  ever  seen,  and  which  I  will  send  you  if  you 
please.  It  came  from  an  old  physician  at  Rich- 
mond, who  did  amazing  service  with  it  in  inveterate 
scurvies,  —  the  parents,  or  ancestors  at  least,  I  be- 
lieve, of  all  gouts.  Your  fit,  I  hope,  is  quite  gone. 

Mr.  Gough  has  been  with  me.  I  never  saw  a 
more  dry  or  more  cold  gentleman.  He  told  me 
his  new  plan  is  a  series  of  English  monuments.  I 
do  like  the  idea,  and  offered  to  lend  him  drawings 
for  it. 

I  have  seen  Mr.  Steevens  too,  who  is  much  more 
flowing.  I  wish  you  had  told  me  it  was  the  editor 
of  Shakspeare,  for  on  his  mentioning  Dr.  Farmer, 
I  launched  out  and  said  he  was  by  much  the  most 
rational  of  Shakspeare's  commentators,  and  had 


236        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

given  the  only  sensible  account  of  the  authors  our 
great  poet  had  consulted.  I  really  meant  those 
who  wrote  before  Dr.  Farmer.  Mr.  Steevens 
seemed  a  little  surprised,  which  made  me  dis- 
cover the  blunder  I  had  made,  for  which  I  was 
very  sorry,  though  I  had  meant  nothing  by  it; 
however,  do  not  mention  it.  I  hope  he  has  too 
much  sense  to  take  it  ill,  as  he  must  have  seen  I 
had  no  intention  of  offending  him ;  on  the  contrary, 
that  my  whole  behavior  marked  a  desire  of  being 
civil  to  him  as  your  friend,  in  which  light  only  you 
had  named  him  to  me.  Pray  take  no  notice  of  it, 
though  I  could  not  help  mentioning  it,  as  it  lies  on 
my  conscience  to  have  been  even  undesignedly 
and  indirectly  unpolite  to  anybody  you  recom- 
mend. I  should  not,  I  trust,  have  been  so  unin- 
tentionally to  anybody,  nor  with  intention,  unless 
provoked  to  it  by  great  folly  or  dirtiness.  Adieu  ! 


LXXVII. 

RENEWED  MOTION  FOR  AN  ADDRESS  OF  PACIFICATION 
WITH  AMERICA. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  March  i,  1782. 
You  know  I  deem  myself  a  bad  political  prophet. 
I  certainly  did  not  expect  that  the  Opposition  (no 
longer  the  minority)  would  have  such  rapid  success 
as  to  have  gained  a  complete  victory  already.  I 
wrote  to  you  on  Tuesday  that  on  the  Friday  pre- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        237 

ceding  they  had  been  beaten  but  by  one.  On 
Wednesday  last,  General  Conway  renewed  his  mo- 
tion for  an  address  of  pacification  with  America, 
and  carried  the  question  by  a  majority  of  nineteen. 
His  speech  was  full  of  wit,  spirit,  and  severity ;  and 
after  the  debate  Mr.  Fox  complimented  him  pub- 
licly on  this  second  triumph,  he  also  having  been 
the  mover  of  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act.  In 
short,  he  stands  in  the  highest  light,  and  all  his  fame 
is  unsullied  by  the  slightest  suspicion  of  interested 
or  factious  motives  in  his  conduct. 

It  would  be  idle  in  me,  who  profess  want  of  pen- 
etration or  intuition  into  futurity,  to  tell  you  what  I 
think  will  happen  ;  in  truth,  I  could  not  tell  you,  if  I 
would,  what  I  foresee.  The  public  certainly  expects- 
some  sudden  change.  I  neither  do,  nor  wish  it. 
At  present  I  think  alteration  would  produce  con- 
fusion, without  any  advantage.  My  reasons  it  would 
be  useless  to  detail,  for  they  will  have  no  share  in 
the  decision. 

I  would  write  these  few  words,  lest  your  nephew 
should  not,  though  in  reality  I  have  told  you  noth- 
ing. You  will  just  be  prepared  not  to  be  surprised, 
whatever  shall  arrive,  as  it  is  a  moment  which  may 
produce  anything.  I  mean  a  change,  a  partial  set- 
tlement, a  total  one,  or  a  re-settlement  of  the  pres- 
ent system ;  though  I  should  think  that,  or  a  partial 
change,  the  least  likely  to  last.  Any  one  of  them 
will  be  fortunate  if  productive  of  peace ;  and  at 
least  nothing  that  has  happened  removes  that  pros- 
pect to  a  greater  distance.  If  I  live  to  see  that 
moment,  I  shall  be  happier  than  I  have  for  some 


238          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

time  expected  to  be.  I  dare  not  entertain  greater 
views  for  my  country,  for  a  long  season ;  though 
nations,  like  individuals,  are  not  precluded  from 
experiencing  any  change  of  fortune. 

p.  S.  —  When  you  do  not  hear  from  me  at  such 
a  crisis,  be  sure  that  nothing  material  has  happened. 
We  have  both  seen  interministeriums  of  six  weeks. 


LXXVIII. 

ON    A    PERFORMANCE   OF    SOUTHERN'S    "  THE    FATAL 
MARRIAGE,"  WITH  MRS.  SIDDONS  AS  ISABELLA. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Nov.  3,  1782. 
OUR  mutual  silence,  madam,  has  had  pretty  nearly 
the  same  cause,  —  want  of  matter ;  for  though  my 
nominal  wife,  Lady  Browne,  has  not  left  me,  like 
your  Lord,  I  have  led  almost  as  uneventful  a  life  as 
your  Ladyship  in  your  lonely  woods,  except  that  I 
have  been  for  two  days  in  town  and  seen  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons.  She  pleased  me  beyond  my  expectation,  but 
not  up  to  the  admiration  of  the  ion,  two  or  three  of 
whom  were  in  the  same  box  with  me,  —  particularly 
Mr.  Boothby,  who,  as  if  to  disclaim  the  stoic  apathy 
of  Mr.  Meadows  in  "  Cecilia,"  was  all  bravissimo. 
Mr.  Crawfurd,  too,  asked  me  if  I  did  not  think  her 
the  best  actress  I  ever  saw  ?  I  said,  "  By  no  means ; 
we  old  folks  were  apt  to  be  prejudiced  in  favor  of 
our  first  impressions."  She  is  a  good  figure,  hand- 
some enough,  though  neither  nose  nor  chin  accord- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.          239 

ing  to  the  Greek  standard,  beyond  which  both 
advance  a  good  deal.  Her  hair  is  either  red  or  she 
has  no  objection  to  its  being  thought  so,  and  had 
used  red  powder.  Her  voice  is  clear  and  good ; 
but  I  thought  she  did  not  vary  its  modulations 
enough,  nor  ever  approach  enough  to  the  familiar,  — 
but  this  may  come  when  more  habituated  to  the  awe 
of  the  audience  of  the  capital.  Her  action  is 
proper,  but  with  little  variety ;  when  without  motion 
her  arms  are  not  genteel.  Thus  you  see,  madam, 
all  my  objections  are  very  trifling.  But  what  I  really 
wanted,  but  did  not  find,  was  originality,  which  an- 
nounces genius,  and  without  both  which  I  am  never 
intrinsically  pleased.  All  Mrs.  Siddons  did,  good 
sense  or  good  instruction  might  give.  I  dare  to 
say  that  were  I  one  and  twenty,  I  should  have 
thought  her  marvellous ;  but  alas !  I  remember 
Mrs.  Porter  and  the  Dumesnil,  and  remember  every 
accent  of  the  former  in  the  very  same  part.  Yet 
this  is  not  entirely  prejudice.  Don't  I  equally  recol- 
lect the  whole  progress  of  Lord  Chatham  and 
Charles  Townshend,  and  does  it  hinder  my  thinking 
Mr.  Fox  a  prodigy?  Pray  don't  send  him  this 
paragraph  too. 

I  am  not  laying  a  courtly  trap,  nor  at  sixty-five 
projecting,  like  the  old  Duke  of  Newcastle,  to  be 
in  favor  in  the  next  reign.  My  real  meditations 
are  on  objects  much  more  proper  to  my  age.  A 
letter  I  have  just  received  from  Lord  Buchan  in- 
forms me  of,  probably,  much  more  splendid  courts 
than  the  little  tottering,  ruined  palace  in  St.  James's 
Street.  Somebody  at  Bath  (whose  name  I  cannot 


240         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

read  !)  has  made  a  telescope  that  magnifies  a  celes- 
tial object  6450  times ;  by  which  he  finds  that  the 
new  planet  (which  I  did  not  see  in  town,  like  Mrs. 
Siddons)  is  160  times  bigger  than  our  little  foot- 
ball; and  as  the  inventor  expects  to  improve  his 
instrument  much  farther,  I  suppose  the  new  planet 
will  improve  in  proportion.  Perhaps  I  do  not  talk 
like  an  optician  or  an  astronomer;  but  think, 
madam,  what  exquisite  glasses  the  new  planetarians 
must  have  before  they  can  have  any  idea  of  our 
existing  at  all !  Well,  but  as  those  160  times  big- 
ger folks  may  have  remained  in  as  profound  igno- 
rance as  Sir  Joseph  Banks's  friends  or  Captain 
Cook's,  how  clever  is  it  in  us  invisible  pismires  to 
have  invented  telescopes  and  calculated  their  size  ! 
I  have  often  asked  myself  whither  the  myriads  that 
are  continually  swept  from  our  earth  are  to  be  trans- 
ported. Now,  as  human  pride  concludes  that  the 
universal  system  was  made  for  little  us,  here  is  a  re- 
ceptacle large  enough,  —  at  least,  that  planet  may 
know  of  others  within  reach,  and  not  above  some 
millions  of  millions  of  miles  off.  Now  stoop,  madam, 
as  many  millions  of  miles  as  all  these  distances 
make,  and  let  us  talk  of  Gibraltar.  Oh,  what  an 
atom  !  how  can  one  figure  it  little  enough,  com- 
pared with  what  we  have  been  talking  of?  Common- 
sense  is  lost  in  the  immensity ;  I  am  forced  to  look 
at  my  window,  and  persuade  myself  that  Richmond 
Hill  is  a  large  object,  before  I  can  dismount  from 
the  stirrups  of  the  telescope  and  talk  the  usual  lan- 
guage of  the  world. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  so  good  an  account  of  Hatfield 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          241 

from  our  Lord.  I  have  been  invited  thither,  but  I 
have  done  with  terrestrial  journeys.  I  have  not 
philosophy  enough  to  stand  stranger  servants  star- 
ing at  my  broken  fingers  at  dinner.  I  hide  myself 
like  spaniels  that  creep  into  a  hedge  to  die;  yet, 
having  preserved  my  eyes  and  all  my  teeth,  among 
which  is  a  colt's  not  yet  decayed,  I  treated  it  and 
my  eyes,  not  only  with  Mrs.  Siddons,  but  a  harle- 
quin farce.  But  there  again  my  ancient  prejudices 
operated :  how  unlike  the  pantomimes  of  Rich, 
which  were  full  of  wit  and  coherent,  and  carried  on 
a  story  !  What  I  now  saw  was  Robinson  Crusoe  : 
how  Aristotle  and  Bossu,  had  they  ever  written  on 
pantomimes,  would  swear  !  It  was  a  heap  of  con- 
tradictions and  violations  of  the  costume.  Friday 
is  turned  into  Harlequin,  and  falls  down  at  an  old 
man's  feet  that  I  took  for  Pantaloon,  but  they  told 
me  it  was  Friday's  father.  I  said  :  "  Then  it  must 
be  Thursday  ;  "  yet  still  it  seemed  to  be  Pantaloon. 
I  see  I  understand  nothing,  from  astronomy  to  a 
harlequin  farce  ! 


LXXIX. 

ON   THE    RECEIPT   OF    POWNALL'S     "CHARACTER     OF 
SIR    ROBERT  WALPOLE." 

To  Governor  Po-wnall. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Oct.  27,  1783. 
I  AM  extremely  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  the  valu- 
able communication  made  to  me.     It  is  extremely 
16 


242        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

so  to  me,  as  it  does  justice  to  a  memory  I  revere 
to  the  highest  degree ;  and  I  flatter  myself  that  it 
would  be  acceptable  to  that  part  of  the  world  that 
loves  truth,  —  and  that  part  will  be  the  majority  as 
fast  as  they  pass  away  who  have  an  interest  in  pre- 
ferring falsehood.  Happily,  truth  is  longer-lived 
than  the  passions  of  individuals;  and  when  man- 
kind are  not  misled,  they  can  distinguish  white 
from  black.  I  myself  do  not  pretend  to  be  unpre- 
judiced ;  I  must  be  so  to  the  best  of  fathers :  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  be  quite  impartial.  No 
wonder,  then,  sir,  if  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  so 
able  a  justification;  yet  I  am  not  so  blinded  but 
that  I  can  discern  solid  reasons  for  admiring  your 
defence.  You  have  placed  that  defence  on  sound 
and  new  grounds ;  and  though  very  briefly,  have 
very  learnedly  stated  and  distinguished  the  land- 
marks of  our  Constitution,  and  the  encroachments 
made  on  it,  by  justly  referring  the  principles  of 
liberty  to  the  Saxon  system,  and  by  imputing  the 
corruptions  of  it  to  the  Norman.  This  was  a  great 
deal  too  deep  for  that  superficial  mountebank,  Hume, 
to  go ;  for  a  mountebank  he  was.  He  mounted  a 
system  in  the  garb  of  a  philosophic  empiric,  but  dis- 
pensed no  drugs  but  what  he  was  authorized  to 
vend  by  a  royal  patent,  and  which  were  full  of 
Turkish  opium.  He  had  studied  nothing  relative 
to  the  English  Constitution  before  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  had  selected  her  most  arbitrary  acts  to  counte- 
nance those  of  the  Stuarts,  —  and  even  hers  he  mis- 
represented; for  her  worst  deeds  were  levelled 
against  the  nobility,  those  of  the  Stuarts  against 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        243 

the  people.  Hers,  consequently,  were  rather  an 
obligation  to  the  people ;  for  the  most  heinous  part 
of  despotism  is,  that  it  produces  a  thousand  despots 
instead  of  one.  Muley  Moloch  cannot  lop  off  many 
heads  with  his  own  hands, — at  least,  he  takes  those 
in  his  way,  those  of  his  courtiers ;  but  his  bashaws 
and  viceroys  spread  destruction  everywhere.  The 
flimsy,  ignorant,  blundering  manner  in  which  Hume 
executed  the  reigns  preceding  Henry  VII.  is  a 
proof  how  little  he  had  examined  the  history  of  our 
Constitution. 

I  could  say  much,  much  more,  sir,  in  commen- 
dation of  your  work,  were  I  not  apprehensive  of 
being  biassed  by  the  subject.  Still,  that  it  would 
not  be  from  flattery,  I  will  prove,  by  taking  the 
liberty  of  making  two  objections ;  and  they  are 
only  to  the  last  page  but  one.  Perhaps  you  will 
think  that  my  first  objection  does  show  that  I  am 
too  much  biassed.  I  own  I  am  sorry  to  see  my 
father  compared  to  Sylla.  The  latter  was  a  sangui- 
nary usurper,  a  monster ;  the  former  the  mildest, 
most  forgiving,  best-natured  of  men,  and  a  legal 
minister.  Nor,  I  fear,  will  the  only  light  in  which 
you  compare  them  stand  the  test.  Sylla  resigned 
his  power  voluntarily,  insolently,  perhaps  timidly, 
as  he  might  think  he  had  a  better  chance  of  dying 
in  his  bed  if  he  retreated,  than  by  continuing  to 
rule  by  force.  My  father  did  not  retire  by  his  own 
option.  He  had  lost  the  majority  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  Sylla,  you  say,  sir,  retired  unimpeached  ; 
it  is  true,  but  covered  with  blood.  My  father  was  not 
impeached  in  our  strict  sense  of  the  word ;  but,  to 


244        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

my  great  joy,  he  was  in  effect.     A  secret  committee 

—  a  worse  inquisition  than  a  jury  —  was  named,  not 
to  try  him,  but  to  sift  his  life  for  crimes ;  and  out  of 
such  a  jury,  chosen  in  the  dark,  and  not  one  of 
whom  he  might  challenge,  he  had  some  determined 
enemies,  many  opponents,  and  but  two   he  could 
suppose   his    friends.     And   what   was   the   conse- 
quence?     A  man  charged  with  every  State  crime 
almost  for  twenty  years  was  proved   to  have  done 

—  what?     Paid  some  writers  much  more  than  they 
deserved  for  having  defended  him  against  ten  thou- 
sand and  ten  thousand  libels  (some  of  which  had 
been  written  by  his  inquisitors),  all  which  libels  were 
confessed  to  have  been  lies  by  his  inquisitors  them- 
selves, for  they  could  not  produce  a  shadow  of  one 
of  the  crimes  with  which  they  have  charged  him  ! 
I  must  own,  sir,  I  think  that  Sylla  and  my  father  ought 
to  be  set  in  opposition  rather  than  paralleled. 

My  other  objection  is  still  more  serious ;  and  if 
I  am  so  happy  as  to  convince  you,  I  shall  hope  that 
you  will  alter  the  paragraph,  —  as  it  seems  to  impute 
something  to  Sir  Robert  of  which  he  was  not  only 
most  innocent,  but  of  which  if  he  had  been  guilty 
I  should  think  him  extremely  so,  for  he  would  have 
been  very  ungrateful.  You  say  he  had  not  the 
comfort  to  see  that  he  had  established  his  own 
family  by  anything  which  he  received  from  the 
gratitude  of  that  Hanover  family,  or  from  the  grati- 
tude of  that  country  which  he  had  saved  and 
served.  Good  sir.  what  does  this  sentence  seem 
to  imply,  but  that  either  Sir  Robert  himself  or  his 
family  thought  or  think  that  the  Kings  George  I. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        245 

and  II.,  or  England,  were  ungrateful  in  not  reward- 
ing his  services?  Defend  him  and  us  from  such  a 
charge  !  He  nor  we  ever  had  such  a  thought.  Was 
it  not  rewarding  him  to  make  him  Prime  Minister 
and  maintain  and  support  him  against  his  enemies 
for  twenty  years  together  ?  Did  not  George  I.  make 
his  eldest  son  a  peer,  and  give  to  the  father  and  son 
a  valuable  patent  place  in  the  Custom  House,  for 
three  lives?  Did  not  George  II.  give  my  elder 
brother  the  Auditor's  place,  and  to  my  brother  and 
me  other  rich  places  for  our  lives,  —  for  though  in 
the  gift  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  do  we  not 
owe  them  to  the  King  who  made  him  so  ?  Did  not 
the  late  King  make  my  father  an  earl  and  dismiss 
him  with  a  pension  of  ^4000  a  year  for  his  life? 
Could  he  or  we  not  think  these  ample  rewards? 
What  rapacious,  sordid  wretches  must  he  and  we 
have  been,  and  be,  could  we  entertain  such  an  idea  ! 
As  far  have  we  all  been  from  thinking  him  neg- 
lected by  his  country.  Did  not  his  country  see  and 
know  these  rewards?  And  could  it  think  these 
rewards  inadequate?  Besides,  sir,  great  as  I  hold 
my  father's  services,  they  were  solid  and  silent,  not 
ostensible.  They  were  of  a  kind  to  which  I  hold 
your  justification  a  more  suitable  reward  than  pe- 
cuniary recompenses.  To  have  fixed  the  House  of 
Hanover  on  the  throne,  to  have  maintained  this 
country  in  peace  and  affluence  for  twenty  years, 
with  the  other  services  you  record,  sir,  were  actions 
the  falat  of  which  must  be  illustrated  by  time  and 
reflection,  and  whose  splendor  has  been  brought 
forwarder  than  I  wish  it  had  by  comparison  with 


246        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

a  period  very  dissimiliar !  If  Sir  Robert  had  not 
the  comfort  of  leaving  his  family  in  affluence,  it 
was  not  imputable  to  his  King  or  his  country.  Per- 
haps I  am  proud  that  he  did  not.  He  died  forty 
thousand  pounds  hi  debt.1  That  was  the  wealth  of 
a  man  that  had  been  taxed  as  the  plunderer  of  his 
country  !  Yet,  with  all  my  adoration  of  my  father, 
I  am  just  enough  to  own  that  it  was  his  own  fault 
he  died  so  poor.  He  had  made  Houghton  much 
too  magnificent  for  the  moderate  estate  which  he 
left  to  support  it;  and  as  he  never  —  I  repeat  it 
with  truth,  never — got  any  money  but  in  the  South 
Sea  and  while  he  was  paymaster,  his  fondness  for 
his  paternal  seat  and  his  boundless  generosity  were 
too  expensive  for  his  fortune.  I  will  mention  one 
instance  which  will  show  how  little  he  was  disposed 
to  turn  the  favor  of  the  Crown  to  his  own  profit. 
He  laid  out  fourteen  thousand  pounds  of  his  own 
money  on  Richmond  New  Park.  I  could  produce 
other  reasons  too  why  Sir  Robert's  family  were  not 
in  so  comfortable  a  situation  as  the  world,  deluded 
by  misrepresentation,  might  expect  to  see  them  at 
his  death.  My  eldest  brother  had  been  a  very  bad 
economist  during  his  father's  life,  and  died  himself 
fifty  thousand  pounds  in  debt,  or  more ;  so  that  to 
this  day  neither  Sir  Edward  nor  I  have  received  the 
five  thousand  pounds  apiece  which  Sir  Robert  left 
us  as  our  fortunes.  I  do  not  love  to  charge  the 
dead,  therefore  will  only  say  that  Lady  Orford 
(reckoned  a  vast  fortune,  which  till  she  died  she 

1  The  very  sum  that  Sir  Robert  gave  for  his  collection 
of  pictures. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         247 

never  proved)  wasted  vast  sums ;  nor  did  my 
brother  or  father  ever  receive  but  the  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  which  she  brought  at  first,  and  which 
were  spent  on  the  wedding  and  christening,  —  I 
mean,  including  her  jewels. 

I  beg  pardon,  sir,  for  this  tedious  detail,  which 
is  minutely,  perhaps  too  minutely,  true ;  but  when 
I  took  the  liberty  of  contesting  any  part  of  a  work 
which  I  admire  so  much,  I  owed  it  to  you  and  to 
myself  to  assign  my  reasons.  I  trust  they  will 
satisfy  you ;  and  if  they  do,  I  am  sure  you  will  alter 
a  paragraph  against  which  it  is  the  duty  of  the  family 
to  exclaim.  Dear  as  my  father's  memory  is  to  my 
soul,  I  can  never  subscribe  to  the  position  that  he 
was  unrewarded  by  the  House  of  Hanover. 


LXXX. 

ON  THE  "GOOD  THINGS"  OF  LIFE. 
To  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Con-way. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL./WW  25,  1784. 
I  CAN  answer  you  very  readily  in  your  own  tone, 
that  is,  about  weather  and  country  grievances,  and 
without  one  word  of  news  or  politics ;  for  I  know 
neither,  nor  inquire  of  them.  I  am  very  well  con- 
tent to  be  a  Struldbrug,  and  to  exist  after  I  have 
done  being:  and  I  am  still  better  pleased  that  you 
are  in  the  same  way  of  thinking,  or  of  not  thinking ; 
for  I  am  sure  both  your  health  and  your  mind  will 


248        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

find  the  benefits  of  living  for  yourself  and  family 
only.  It  were  not  fit  that  the  young  should  con- 
centre themselves  in  so  narrow  a  circle ;  nor  do 
the  young  seem  to  have  any  such  intention.  Let 
them  mend  or  mar  the  world  as  they  please,  the 
world  takes  its  own  way  upon  the  whole ;  and 
though  there  may  be  an  uncommon  swarm  of 
animalculse  for  a  season,  things  return  into  their 
own  channel  from  their  own  bias  before  any  effec- 
tual nostrum  of  fumigation  is  discovered.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  am  for  giving  all  due  weight  to  local 
grievances,  though  with  no  natural  turn  towards  at- 
tending to  them ;  but  they  serve  for  conversation. 
We  have  no  newly  invented  grubs  to  eat  our  fruit, 
—  indeed,  I  have  no  fruit  to  be  eaten ;  but  I  should 
not  lament  if  the  worms  would  eat  my  gardener,  who, 
you  know,  is  so  bad  an  one  that  I  never  have 
anything  in  my  garden. 

I  am  now  waiting  for  dry  weather  to  cut  my  hay ; 
though  Nature  certainly  never  intended  hay  should 
be  cut  dry,  as  it  always  rains  all  June.  But  here  is 
a  worse  calamity  :  one  is  never  safe  by  day  or  night ; 
Mrs.  Walsingham,  who  has  bought  your  brother's 
late  house  at  Ditton,  was  robbed  a  few  days  ago 
in  the  high  road,  within  a  mile  of  home,  at  seven 
in  the  evening.  The  dii  minorum  gentium  pilfer 
everything.  Last  night  they  stole  a  couple  of  yards 
of  lead  off  the  pediment  of  the  door  of  my  cottage. 
A  gentleman  at  Putney,  who  has  three  men-servants, 
had  his  house  broken  open  last  week,  and  lost  some 
fine  miniatures,  which  he  valued  so  much  that  he 
would  not  hang  them  up.  You  may  imagine  what 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,        249 

a  pain  this  gives  me  in  my  baubles  !  I  have  been 
making  the  round  of  my  fortifications  this  morning, 
and  ordering  new  works. 

I  am  concerned  for  the  account  you  give  me  of 
your  brother.  Life  does  not  appear  to  be  such 
a  jewel  as  to  preserve  it  carefully  for  its  own  sake. 
I  think  the  same  of  its  good  things  :  if  they  do  not 
procure  amusement  or  comfort,  I  doubt  they  only 
produce  the  contrary.  Yet  it  is  silly  to  repine,  for 
probably,  whatever  any  man  does  by  choice,  he 
knows  will  please  him  best,  or  at  least  will  prevent 
greater  uneasiness.  I  therefore  rather  retract  my 
concern ;  for  with  a  vast  fortune,  Lord  Hertford 
might  certainly  do  what  he  would :  and  if,  at  his 
age,  he  can  wish  for  more  than  that  fortune  will 
obtain,  I  may  pity  his  taste  or  temper,  but  I  shall 
think  that  you  and  I  are  much  happier  who  can  find 
enjoyments  in  an  humbler  sphere,  nor  envy  those 
who  have  no  time  for  trifling.  I,  who  have  never 
done  anything  else,  am  not  at  all  weary  of  my  oc- 
cupation. Even  three  days  of  continued  rain  have 
not  put  me  out  of  humor  or  spirits.  Cest  beaucoup 
dire  for  an  Anglais.  Adieu  ! 


250        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 
LXXXI. 

STRAWBERRY   HILL  LANDSCAPES. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Sept.  30,  1784. 

I  SHALL  now  be  expecting  your  nephew  soon,  and 
I  trust  with  a  perfectly  good  account  of  you.  The 
next  time  he  visits  you  I  may  be  able  to  send  you  a 
description  of  my  Galleria, —  I  have  long  been  pre- 
paring it,  and  it  is  almost  finished, —  with  some 
prints,  which,  however,  I  doubt,  will  convey  no  very 
adequate  idea  of  it.  In  the  first  place,  they  are  but 
moderately  executed ;  I  could  not  afford  to  pay  our 
principal  engravers,  whose  prices  are  equal  to,  nay, 
far  above,  those  of  former  capital  painters.  In  the 
next,  as  there  is  a  solemnity  in  the  house,  of  which 
the  cuts  will  give  you  an  idea,  they  cannot  add  the 
gay  variety  of  the  scene  without,  which  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  every  side,  and  almost  from  every 
chamber,  and  makes  a  most  agreeable  contrast ;  the 
house  being  placed  almost  in  an  elbow  of  the 
Thames,  which  surrounds  half,  and  consequently 
beautifies  three  of  the  aspects.  Then  my  little  hill 
—  and  diminutive  enough  it  is  —  gazes  up  to  Royal 
Richmond ;  and  Twickenham  on  the  left,  and 
Kingston  Wick  on  the  right,  are  seen  across  bends 
of  the  river,  which  on  each  hand  appears  like  a 
Lilliputian  seaport.  Swans,  cows,  sheep,  coaches, 
post-chaises,  carts,  horsemen,  and  foot-passengers 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         251 

are  continually  in  view.  The  fourth  scene  is  a  large 
common-field,  a  constant  prospect  of  harvest  and 
its  stages,  traversed  under  my  windows  by  the  great 
road  to  Hampton  Court,  —  in  short,  an  animated 
view  of  the  country.  These  moving  pictures  com- 
pensate the  conventual  gloom  of  the  inside,  which, 
however,  when  the  sun  shines,  is  gorgeous,  as  he  ap- 
pears all  crimson  and  gold  and  azure  through  the 
painted  glass.  Now,  to  be  quite  fair,  you  must 
turn  the  perspective,  and  look  at  this  vision  through 
the  diminishing  end  of  the  telescope ;  for  nothing  is 
so  small  as  the  whole,  and  even  Mount  Richmond 
would  not  reach  up  to  Fiesole's  shoe-buckle.  If 
your  nephew  is  still  with  you,  he  will  confirm  the 
truth  of  all  the  pomp,  and  all  the  humility,  of  my  de- 
scription. I  grieve  that  you  would  never  come  and 
cast  an  eye  on  it !  But  are  even  our  visions  pure 
from  alloy?  Does  not  some  drawback  always  hang 
over  them?  and,  being  visions,  how  rapidly  must 
not  they  fleet  away  !  Yes,  yes  ;  our  smiles  and  our 
tears  are  almost  as  transient  as  the  lustre  of  the 
morning  and  the  shadows  of  the  evening,  and 
almost  as  frequently  interchanged.  Our  passions 
form  airy  balloons,  we  know  not  how  to  direct 
them ;  and  the  very  inflammable  matter  that 
transports  them  often  makes  the  bubble  burst. 
Adieu  ! 


252        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 
LXXXII 

ON  THE  PUBLICATION  OF  PRIVATE  LETTERS. 
To  Dr.  Joseph   Warton. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Dec.  9,  1784. 

I  AM  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  your 
repeated  kindness  and  communications,  and  was 
much  pleased  at  the  sight  of  both  the  letters  of 
Voltaire  and  Mr.  Windham,  which  I  return  with 
thanks  and  gratitude.  Both  are  curious  in  different 
ways.  Voltaire's  English  would  be  good  English  in 
any  other  foreigner ;  but  a  man  who  gave  himself 
the  air  of  criticising  our  —  and,  I  will  say,  the 
world's  —  greatest  author,  ought  to  have  been  a 
better  master  of  our  language,  though  this  letter 
and  his  commentary  prove  that  he  could  neither 
write  it  nor  read  it  accurately  and  intelligently. 

That  little  triumph,  however,  I  shall  decline,  —  I 
mean,  I  will  make  no  use  of  his  letter.  It  would  be 
a  still  poorer  scrap  than  it  is,  if  curtailed ;  and  I 
would  by  no  means  be  accessory  to  printing  the 
first  part,  in  which  I  am  happy  to  find  you  agree 
with  me.  Indeed,  it  would  be  publishing  scandal, 
and  to  the  vexation  of  an  innocent  gentleman.  I 
condemn  exceedingly  all  publication  of  private 
letters  in  which  living  persons  are  named.  I  thought 
it  scandalous  to  print  Lord  Chesterfield's  and  Presi- 
dent Montesquieu's  letters.  It  is  cruel  to  the 
writers,  cruel  to  the  persons  named,  and  is  a  prac- 
tice that  would  destroy  private  intercourse  in  a 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.         253 

great  measure.  What  father  could  venture  to  warn 
his  son  against  the  company  of  such  or  such  a 
person  if  it  were  likely  that  a  Curll  or  a  Mrs.  Stan- 
hope would  print  his  letter  with  the  names  at 
length !  I  detained  my  own  fourth  volume  of 
"  Painters  "  for  nine  years,  though  there  is  certainly 
no  abuse  in  it,  lest  it  should  not  satisfy  the  children 
of  some  of  those  artists. 

Still  I  am  far,  sir,  from  carrying  this  delicacy  so 
far  as  some  expect.  I  would  respect  the  characters 
of  the  living  and  the  feelings  of  their  children.  I 
should  not  have  so  much  management  for  their 
grandchildren,  who  may  have  a  full  portion  of  pride 
about  their  ancestry,  but  certainly  have  very  rarely 
a  grain  of  affectionate  tenderness  for  them.  I  did 
give  much  offence  to  some  persons  who  yearned 
with  those  genealogic  duties,  by  my  "  Catalogue  of 
Royal  and  Noble  Authors ; "  but  I  did  not  care  a 
straw.  Indeed,  if  every  bad  man  who  has  had 
the  honor  of  being  great-grandfather  to  some  one 
or  other,  was  to  be  spared  for  fear  of  shocking  his 
noble  descendants,  history  would  be  as  fulsome  as 
dedications  were  some  years  ago.  Philip  II.  was 
ancestor  to  half  the  monarchs  of  Europe  :  may  not 
he  be  branded  as  a  monster  without  offence  to  their 
Majesties? 


254 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


LXXXIII. 

CRITICISM  ON  POETRY.  —  MADAME  DE 

To  John  Pinker  ton,  Esq. 

June  26,  1785. 

I  HAVE  sent  your  book  to  Mr.  Colman,  sir,  and 
must  desire  you  in  return  to  offer  my  grateful  thanks 
to  Mr.  Knight,  who  has  done  me  an  honor,  to  which 
I  do  not  know  how  I  am  entitled,  by  the  present  of 
his  poetry,  which  is  very  classic  and  beautiful  and 
tender,  and  of  chaste  simplicity. 

To  your  book,  sir,  I  am  much  obliged  on  many 
accounts,  particularly  for  having  recalled  my  mind 
to  subjects  of  delight,  to  which  it  was  grown  dulled 
by  age  and  indolence.  In  consequence  »f  your 
reclaiming  it,  I  asked  myself  whence  you  feel  so 
much  disregard  for  certain  authors  whose  fame  is 
established ;  you  have  assigned  good  reasons  for 
withholding  your  approbation  from  some,  on  the 
plea  of  their  being  imitators :  it  was  natural,  then, 
to  ask  myself  again  whence  they  had  obtained  so 
much  celebrity.  I  think  I  have  discovered  a  cause 
which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  noted ;  and 
that  cause  I  suspect  to  have  been,  that  certain  of 
those  authors  possessed  grace.  Do  not  take  me 
for  a  disciple  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  nor  imagine  that 
I  mean  to  erect  grace  into  a  capital  ingredient  of 
writing ;  but  I  do  believe  that  it  is  a  perfume  that 
will  preserve  from  putrefaction,  and  is  distinct  even 
from  style,  which  regards  expression.  Grace,  I  think, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         255 

belongs  to  manner.  It  is  from  the  charm  of  grace 
that  I  believe  some  authors,  not  in  your  favor,  ob- 
tained part  of  their  renown,  —  Virgil,  in  particular  ; 
and  yet  I  am  far  from  disagreeing  with  you  on  his 
subject  in  general.  There  is  such  a  dearth  of  in- 
vention in  the  ^Eneid  (and  when  he  did  invent,  it 
was  often  so  foolishly),  so  little  good  sense,  so  little 
variety,  and  so  little  power  over  the  passions  that 
I  have  frequently  said,  from  contempt  for  his  matter, 
and  from  the  charm  of  his  harmony,  that  I  believe 
I  should  like  his  poem  better  if  I  was  to  hear  it 
repeated  and  did  not  understand  Latin.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  has  more  than  harmony  :  whatever 
he  utters  is  said  gracefully,  and  he  ennobles  his 
images,  especially  in  the  Georgics,  —  or  at  least  it  is 
more  sensible  there,  from  the  humility  of  the  sub- 
ject. A  Roman  farmer  might  not  understand  his 
diction  in  agriculture,  but  he  made  a  Roman 
courtier  understand  farming,  the  farming  of  that 
age,  and  could  captivate  a  lord  of  Augustus's  bed- 
chamber, and  tempt  him  to  listen  to  themes  of 
rusticity.  On  the  contrary,  Statius  and  Claudian, 
though  talking  of  war,  would  make  a  soldier  despise 
them  as  bullies.  That  graceful  manner  of  thinking 
in  Virgil  seems  to  me  to  be  more  than  style,  if  I  do 
not  refine  too  much.  A  style  may  be  excellent 
without  grace  ;  for  instance,  Dr.  Swift's.  Eloquence 
may  bestow  an  immortal  style,  and  one  of  more 
dignity ;  yet  eloquence  may  want  that  ease,  that 
genteel  air  that  flows  from  or  constitutes  grace. 
Addison  himself  was  master  of  that  grace,  even  in 
his  pieces  of  humor,  and  which  do  not  owe  their 


256        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

merit  to  style ;  and  from  that  combined  secret  he 
excels  all  men  that  ever  lived,  but  Shakspeare,  in 
humor,  by  never  dropping  into  an  approach  towards 
burlesque  and  buffoonery,  when  even  his  humor 
descended  to  characters  that  in  other  hands  would 
have  been  vulgarly  low.  Is  not  it  clear  that  Will 
Wimble  was  a  gentleman,  though  he  always  lived  at 
a  distance  from  good  company?  Fielding  had  as 
much  humor,  perhaps,  as  Addison,  but  having  no 
idea  of  grace,  is  perpetually  disgusting.  His  inn- 
keepers and  parsons  are  the  grossest  of  their  pro- 
fession, and  his  gentlemen  are  awkward  when  they 
should  be  at  their  ease. 

The  Grecians  had  grace  in  everything,  —  in  poetry, 
in  oratory,  hi  statuary,  hi  architecture,  and  probably 
in  music  and  painting.  The  Romans,  it  is  true, 
were  their  imitators;  but  having  grace  too,  im- 
parted it  to  their  copies,  which  gave  them  a  merit 
that  almost  raises  them  to  the  rank  of  originals. 
Horace's  Odes  acquired  their  fame,  no  doubt, 
from  the  graces  of  his  manner  and  purity  of  his 
style,  —  the  chief  praise  of  Tibullus  and  Propertius, 
who  certainly  cannot  boast  of  more  meaning  than 
Horace's  Odes. 

Waller,  whom  you  proscribe,  sir,  owed  his  repu- 
tation to  the  graces  of  his  manner,  though  he 
frequently  stumbled-  and  even  fell  flat ;  but  a  few 
of  his  smaller  pieces  are  as  graceful  as  possible,  — 
one  might  say  that  he  excelled  in  painting  ladies  in 
enamel,  but  could  not  succeed  hi  portraits  in  oil, 
large  as  life.  Milton  had  such  superior  merit  that 
I  will  only  say  that  if  his  angels,  his  Satan,  and  his 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          237 

Adam  have  as  much  dignity  as  the  Apollo  Belvi- 
dere,  his  Eve  has  all  the  delicacy  and  graces  of  the 
Venus  of  Me'dicis ;  as  his  description  of  Eden  has 
the  coloring  of  Albano.  Milton's  tenderness  im- 
prints ideas  as  graceful  as  Guide's  Madonnas ;  and 
the  "  Allegro,"  "  Penseroso,"  and  "  Comus  "  might 
be  denominated  from  the  three  Graces,  —  as  the 
Italians  gave  similar  titles  to  two  or  three  of 
Petrarch's  best  sonnets. 

Cowley,  I  think,  would  have  had  grace  (for  his 
mind  was  graceful)  if  he  had  had  any  ear,  or  if  his 
taste  had  not  been  vitiated  by  the  pursuit  of  wit,  — 
which  when  it  does  not  offer  itself  naturally,  de- 
generates into  tinsel  or  pertness.  Pertness  is  the 
mistaken  affectation  of  grace,  as  pedantry  produces 
erroneous  dignity :  the  familiarity  of  the  one,  and 
the  clumsiness  of  the  other,  distort  or  prevent  grace. 
Nature,  that  furnishes  samples  of  all  qualities,  and 
on  the  scale  of  gradation  exhibits  all  possible  shades, 
affords  us  types  that  are  more  apposite  than  words. 
The  eagle  is  sublime,  the  lion  majestic,  the  swan 
graceful,  the  monkey  pert,  the  bear  ridiculously 
awkward.  I  mention  these  as  more  expressive  and 
comprehensive  than  I  could  make  definitions  of  my 
meaning ;  but  I  will  apply  the  swan  only,  under 
whose  wings  I  will  shelter  an  apology  for  Racine, 
whose  pieces  gives  me  an  idea  of  that  bird.  The 
coloring  of  the  swan  is  pure ;  his  attitudes  are 
graceful ;  he  never  displeases  you  when  sailing  on 
his  proper  element.  His  feet  may  be  ugly,  his 
notes  hissing,  not  musical,  his  walk  not  natural ;  he 
can  soar,  but  it  is  with  difficulty,  —  still,  the  im- 
17 


258        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

pression  the  swan  leaves  is  that  of  grace.  So  does 
Racine. 

Boileau  may  be  compared  to  the  dog,  whose 
sagacity  is  remarkable,  as  well  as  its  fawning  on  its 
master  and  its  snarling  at  those  it  dislikes.  If 
Boileau  was  too  austere  to  admit  the  pliability  of 
grace,  he  compensates  by  good  sense  and  propriety. 
He  is  like  (for  I  will  drop  animals)  an  upright 
magistrate  whom  you  respect,  but  whose  justice 
and  severity  leave  an  awe  that  discourages  famil- 
iarity. His  copies  of  the  ancients  may  be  too 
servile ;  but  if  a  good  translator  deserves  praise, 
Boileau  deserves  more.  He  certainly  does  not  fall 
below  his  originals ;  and  considering  at  what  period 
he  wrote,  has  greater  merit  still.  By  his  imitations 
he  held  out  to  his  countrymen  models  of  taste,  and 
banished  totally  the  bad  taste  of  his  predecessors. 
For  his  "  Lutrin,"  replete  with  excellent  poetry,  wit, 
humor,  and  satire,  he  certainly  was  not  obliged  to 
the  ancients.  Excepting  Horace,  how  little  idea 
had  either  Greeks  or  Romans  of  wit  and  humor  ! 
Aristophanes  and  Lucian,  compared  with  moderns, 
were,  the  one  a  blackguard,  and  the  other  a  buffoon. 
In  my  eyes,  the  "  Lutrin,"  the  "  Dispensary,"  and 
the  "  Rape  of  the  Lock  "  are  standards  of  grace 
and  elegance  not  to  be  paralleled  by  antiquity; 
and  eternal  reproaches  to  Voltaire,  whose  indelicacy 
in  the  "  Pucelle  "  degraded  him  as  much,  when 
compared  with  the  three  authors  I  have  named,  as 
his  "  Henriade  "  leaves  Virgil,  and  even  Lucan, 
whom  he  more  resembles,  by  far  his  superiors. 

The   "  Dunciad  "  is  blemished  by  the  offensive 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        259 

images  of  the  games ;  but  the  poetry  appears  to 
me  admirable;  and  though  the  fourth  book  has 
obscurities,  I  prefer  it  to  the  three  others :  it  has 
descriptions  not  surpassed  by  any  poet  that  ever 
existed,  and  which  surely  a  writer  merely  ingenious 
will  never  equal.  The  lines  on  Italy,  on  Venice, 
or  Convents,  have  all  the  grace  for  which  I  contend 
as  distinct  from  poetry,  though  united  with  the 
most  beautiful ;  and  the  "  Rape  of  the  Lock." 
besides  the  originality  of  great  part  of  the  invention, 
is  a  standard  of  graceful  writing. 

In  general,  I  believe  that  what  I  call  "grace  "  is 
denominated  "  elegance ;  "  but  by  grace  I  mean 
something  higher.  I  will  explain  myself  by  instances  : 
Apollo  is  graceful,  Mercury  is  elegant.  Petrarch, 
perhaps,  owed  his  whole  merit  to  the  harmony  of 
his  numbers  and  the  graces  of  his  style.  They 
conceal  his  poverty  of  meaning  and  want  of  variety. 
His  complaints,  too,  may  have  added  an  interest, 
which,  had  his  passion  been  successful,  and  had 
expressed  itself  with  equal  sameness,  would  have 
made  the  number  of  his  sonnets  insupportable. 
Melancholy  in  poetry,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  con- 
tributes to  grace,  when  it  is  not  disgraced  by  pitiful 
lamentations,  such  as  Ovid's  and  Cicero's  in  their 
banishments.  We  respect  melancholy,  because  it 
imparts  a  similar  affection,  pity.  A  gay  writer,  who 
should  only  express  satisfaction  without  variety, 
would  soon  be  nauseous. 

Madame  de  Sevigne"  shines  both  in  grief  and 
gayety.  There  is  too  much  of  sorrow  for  her  daugh- 
ter's absence ;  yet  it  is  always  expressed  by  new 


260        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

terms,  by  new  images,  and  often  by  wit,  whose 
tenderness  has  a  melancholy  air.  When  she  forgets 
her  concern,  and  returns  to  her  natural  disposition, 
—  gayety,  —  every  paragraph  has  novelty ;  her  allu- 
sions, her  applications,  are  the  happiest  possible. 
She  has  the  art  of  making  you  acquainted  with  all 
her  acquaintance,  and  attaches  you  even  to  the  spots 
she  inhabited.  Her  language  is  correct,  though 
unstudied ;  and  when  her  mind  is  full  of  any  great 
event,  she  interests  you  with  the  warmth  of  a  dra- 
matic writer,  not  with  the  chilling  impartiality  of  an 
historian.  Pray  read  her  accounts  of  the  death  of 
Turenne,  and  of  the  arrival  of  King  James  in  France, 
and  tell  me  whether  you  do  not  know  their  persons 
as  if  you  had  lived  at  the  time. 

For  my  part,  if  you  will  allow  me  a  word  of  di- 
gression (not  that  I  have  written  with  any  method) , 
I  hate  the  cold  impartiality  recommended  to  his- 
torians :  "  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est  primum 
ipsi  tibi ; "  but  that  I  may  not  wander  again,  nor 
tire,  nor  contradict  you  any  more,  I  will  finish  now, 
and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  dine  at  Strawberry  Hill 
next  Sunday,  and  take  a  bed  there,  when  I  will  tell 
you  how  many  more  parts  of  your  book  have  pleased 
me  than  have  startled  my  opinions,  or,  perhaps, 
prejudices.  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir,  with  re- 
gard, eta 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        261 


LXXXIV. 

ON  THE  RECEIPT  OF  "  FLORIO,"  DEDICATED  TO 
HIMSELF. 

To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Feb.  9,  1786. 
IT  is  very  cruel,  my  dear  madam,  when  you  send 
me  such  charming  lines,  and  say  such  kind  and  flat- 
tering things  to  me  and  of  me,  that  I  cannot  even 
thank  you  with  my  own  poor  hand;  and  yet  my 
hand  is  as  much  obliged  to  you  as  my  eye  and  ear 
and  understanding.  My  hand  was  in  great  pain 
when  your  present  arrived.  I  opened  it  directly, 
and  set  to  reading,  till  your  music  and  my  own  van- 
ity composed  a  quieting  draught  that  glided  to  the 
ends  of  my  fingers,  and  lulled  the  throbs  into  the 
deliquium  that  attends  opium  when  it  does  not  put 
one  absolutely  to  sleep.  I  don't  believe  that  the 
deity  who  formerly  practised  both  poetry  and  phy- 
sic, when  gods  got  their  livelihood  by  more  than  one 
profession,  ever  gave  a  recipe  in  rhyme ;  and  there- 
fore, since  Dr.  Johnson  has  prohibited  application 
to  pagan  divinities,  and  Mr.  Burke  has  not  struck 
medicine  and  poetry  out  of  the  list  of  sinecures,  I 
wish  you  may  get  a  patent  for  life  for  exercising  both 
faculties.  It  would  be  a  comfortable  event  for  me  ; 
for  since  I  cannot  wait  on  you  to  thank  you,  nor 
dare  ask  you 

"  To  call  your  doves  yourself  " 
and  visit  me  in  your  Parnassian  quality,  I  might 


262        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

send  for  you  as  myphysicianess.  Yet  why  should  not 
I  ask  you  to  come  and  see  me  ?  You  are  not  such 
a  prude  as  to 

"  Blush  to  show  compassion," 

though  it  should 

"  Not  chance  this  year  to  be  the  fashion."1 
And  I  can  tell  you  that  powerful  as  your  poetry  is, 
and  old  as  I  am,  I  believe  a  visit  from  you  would 
do  me  as  much  good  almost  as  your  verses.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  beg  you  to  accept  of  an  addition  to 
your  Strawberry  editions;  and  believe  me  to  be, 
with  the  greatest  gratitude,  your  too-much  honored 
and  most  obliged,  humble  servant. 


LXXXV. 

ACKNOWLEDGING  THE  RECEIPT  OF  A  CAMEO. 

To  Sir  Horace  Mann, 

June  22,  1786. 

I  HAVE  not  yet  received  your  letter  by  Mrs. 
Darner,  my  dear  sir,  but  I  have  that  of  June  3d, 
which  announces  it.  I  lament  the  trouble  your 
cough  gives  you,  though  I  am  quite  persuaded  that 
it  is  medicinal,  and  diverts  the  gout  from  critical 
parts.  I  have  felt  so  much,  and  consequently  have 
observed  so  much,  of  chronical  disorders  that  I 
don't  think  I  deceive  myself.  Should  you  tell  me 
your  complaint  is  not  gouty,  I  should  reply  that  all 

1  See  Florio. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         263 

chronical  distempers  are  or  ought  to  be  gout ;  and 
when  they  do  not  appear  in  their  proper  form,  are 
only  deviations.  Coughs  in  old  persons  clear  the 
lungs ;  and,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  know  two  elderly 
persons  who  are  never  so  well  as  when  they  have  a 
cough. 

I  love  Mrs.  Damer  for  her  attention  to  you,  but 
I  shall  scold  her,  instead  of  you,  for  letting  you  send 
me  the  cameo.  To  you  I  will  not  say  a  cross  word, 
when  you  are  weak ;  but  why  will  you  not  let  me 
love  you  without  being  obliged  to  it  by  gratitude  ? 
You  make  me  appear  in  my  own  eyes  interested,  — 
a  dirty  quality,  of  which  I  flattered  myself  I  was  to- 
tally free.  Gratitude  may  be  a  virtue  ;  but  what  is  a 
man  who  consents  to  have  fifty  obligations  to  be  so 
virtuous  ?  I  have  always  professed  hating  presents ; 
must  not  I  appear  a  hypocrite  when  I  have  accepted 
so  many  from  you?  Well  !  as  I  have  registered 
them  all  in  the  printed  catalogue  of  my  collection, 
I  hope  I  shall  be  called  a  mercenary  wretch;  I 
deserve  it. 

Nothing  you  tell  me  of  the  Episcopal  Court  sur- 
prises me,  —  he  is  horrible  !  His  nephew  Fitzgerald, 
whom  his  Holiness,  though  knowing  his  infernal 
character,  had  destined  to  put  into  orders  and  pre- 
sent with  a  rich  living,  had  it  fallen  vacant,  is  hanged 
for  a  most  atrocious  murder,  which  has  brought  out 
others  still  blacker;  but  the  story  is  too  shocking 
for  your  good-natured,  feeble  nerves.  The  great 
culprit  Hastings's  fate  is  not  decided,  but,  to  his 
and  mankind's  surprise,  the  House  of  Commons 
last  week  voted  him  on  one  of  the  articles  deserv- 


264        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

ing  to  be  impeached,  and  Mr.  Pitt  declared  on  that 
article  against  him ;  so  Burke  has  proved  to  have 
been  in  the  right  in  his  prosecution. 

The  French  prisoners  have  come  off  better  than 
I  expected.  I  said  early  I  was  sure  I  should  never 
understand  the  story ;  I  am  very  sure  now  that  I  do 
not.  Never  did  I  like  capital  punishments;  but 
when  they  are  committed,  how  comes  so  prodigious 
a  robbery  to  escape  ?  The  Cardinal,  supposing  him 
merely  a  dupe,  is  not  sufficiently  punished.  A  prince 
may  be  duped  by  a  low  wretch ;  a  low  man  may  be 
bubbled  by  a  prince ;  but  it  is  not  excusable  in  a 
man  who  has  kept  both  the  best  and  the  worst 
company  to  be  made  such  a  tool.  I  would  at  least 
have  sequestered  his  revenues  till  the  jewellers  were 
paid,  —  for  I  do  not  see  why  the  Cardinal's  family 
should  suffer  for  his  roguery  or  folly,  —  and  then  I 
would  have  deprived  him  of  his  employments,  as  in- 
capable. For  that  rascal  Cagliostro,  he  should  be 
punished  for  joining  in  the  mummery,  and  shut  up 
for  his  other  impositions.  For  his  legend,  it  is  more 
preposterous,  absurd,  and  incredible  than  anything 
in  the  Arabian  Nights.  He  is  come  hither;  and 
why  should  one  think  but  he  may  be  popular  here 
too  !  But  enough  of  criminals  and  adventurers,  — 
though  perhaps  it  is  not  much  changing  the  theme 
to  tell  you  that  I  have  received  a  letter  from  Con- 
stantinople, as  I  had  one  from  Petersburg,  before 
that  from  Venice,  after  the  heroine l  had  left  Flor- 
ence. She  is  now  gone  to  the  Greek  Isles,  and  bids 

1  Lady  Craven,  a  famous  traveller,  and  author  of  "  Jour- 
ney through  the  Crimea  to  England"  (1789). 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         265 

me  next  direct  to  Vienna.  I  have  answered  none  ; 
I  had  a  mind  to  direct  to  the  Fiancee  du  Roi  de 
Garbe.  I  shall  at  least  stay  till  I  hear  that  she  is 
not  a  prize  to  some  corsair. 

Your  nephew  and  niece,  I  hear,  are  married. 
The  father,  I  hope,  will  now  soon  make  you  an- 
other visit ;  I  love  to  have  him  with  you. 

I  talked  of  gratitude  :  but  recollect  that  I  have 
not  even  thanked  you  for  your  cameo.  I  hope  this 
looks  like  not  being  delighted  with  it :  how  can  I 
say  such  a  brutal  thing  ?  I  am  charmed  with  your 
kindness,  though  I  wished  for  no  more  proofs  of  it. 
In  short,  I  don't  know  how  to  steer  between  my  in- 
clination for  expressing  my  full  sense  of  your  friend- 
ship, and  my  pride,  that  is  not  fond  of  being  obliged 
—  and  so  very  often  obliged  —  by  those  I  love  most. 
Oh  !  but  I  have  a  much  worse  vice  than  pride 
(which,  begging  the  clergy's  pardon,  I  don't  think  a 
very  heinous  one,  as  it  is  a  counter- poison  to  mean- 
ness),—  lam  monstrously  ungrateful;  I  have  re- 
ceived a  thousand  valuable  presents  from  you,  and 
yet  never  made  you  one  !  I  shall  begin  to  think  I 
am  avaricious  too.  In  short,  my  dear  sir,  your 
cameo  is  a  mirror  in  which  I  discover  a  thousand 
faults  of  which  I  did  not  suspect  myself,  besides  all 
those  which  I  did  know.  No,  no,  I  will  not  lecture 
Mrs.  Darner,  but  myself.  I  absolve  you,  and  am 
determined  to  think  myself  a  prodigy  of  rapacity  ! 
I  see  there  is  no  merit  in  not  loving  money,  if  one 
loves  playthings.  I  have  often  declaimed  against 
collectors,  who  will  do  anything  mean  to  obtain  a 
rarity  they  want :  pray  is  that  so  bad  as  accepting 


266          LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

curiosities,  and  never  making  a  return  ?  Oh,  I  am 
the  most  ungrateful  of  all  virtuosos,  as  you  are  the 
most  generous  of  all  friends  !  Well,  the  worse  I 
think  of  myself,  the  better  I  think  of  you,  —  and  that 
is  some  compensation  for  the  contempt  I  have  for 
myself;  and  I  will  be  content  to  serve  as  a  foil  to 
you.  Adieu ! 


LXXXVI. 

A  CHAT   WITH  MRS.   SIDDONS. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Jan.  15,  1788. 

ALL  joy  to  your  Ladyship  on  the  success  of  your 
theatric  campaign  !  I  do  think  the  representation 
of  plays  as  entertaining  and  ingenious,  as  choosing 
king  and  queen,  and  the  gambols  and  mummeries 
of  our  ancestors  at  Christmas,  or  as  making  one's 
neighbors  and  all  their  servants  drunk,  and  send- 
ing them  home  ten  miles  in  the  dark,  with  the 
chance  of  breaking  their  necks  by  some  comical 
overturn.  I  wish  I  could  have  been  one  of  the 
audience ;  but,  alas  !  I  am  like  the  African  lamb, 
and  can  only  feed  on  the  grass  and  herbs  that  grow 
within  my  reach. 

I  can  make  no  returns  yet  from  the  theatre  at 
Richmond  House ;  the  Duke  and  Duchess  do  not 
come  till  the  birthday,  and  I  have  been  at  no  more 
rehearsals,  being  satisfied  with  two  of  the  play. 
Prologue  or  epilogue  there  is  to  be  none,  as  neither 
the  plays  nor  the  performers,  in  general,  are  new. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         267 

The  "  Jealous  Wife  "  is  to  succeed  for  the  exhibition 
of  Mrs.  Hobart,  who  could  have  no  part  in  "  The 
Wonder." 

My  histrionic  acquaintance  spreads.  I  supped 
at  Lady  Dorothy  Hotham's  with  Mrs.  Siddons,  and 
have  visited  and  been  visited  by  her,  and  have  seen 
and  liked  her  much, —  yes,  very  much, —  in  the  pas- 
sionate scenes  in  "  Percy  ;  "  but  I  do  not  admire 
her  in  cool  declamation,  and  find  her  voice  very  hol- 
low and  defective.  I  asked  her  in  which  part  she 
would  most  wish  me  to  see  her?  She  named  Portia 
in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice  ;  "  but  I  begged  to  be 
excused.  With  all  my  enthusiasm  for  Shakspeare, 
it  is  one  of  his  plays  that  I  like  the  least.  The 
story  of  the  caskets  is  silly,  and  except  the  char- 
acter of  Shylock,  I  see  nothing  beyond  the  attain- 
ment of  a  mortal :  Euripides  or  Racine  or  Voltaire 
might  have  written  all  the  rest.  Moreover,  Mrs. 
Siddons's  warmest  devotees  do  not  hold  her  above 
a  demi-goddess  in  comedy.  I  have  chosen  "  Athe- 
nais,"  in  which  she  is  to  appear  soon;  her  scorn  is 
admirable. 

Of  news  I  have  heard  none  but  foreign,  nor  those 
more  circumstantially  than  the  papers  recount. 
The  Russian  Empress,  the  Austrian  Emperor,  and 
Mount  Vesuvius  are  playing  the  devil  with  the 
world.  The  Parliaments  of  France,  in  the  usual 
disproportion  of  good  to  evil,  are  aiming  at  wrench- 
ing from  the  Crown  some  freedom  for  their  country, 
— at  a  fortunate  and  wise  moment,  for  the  Crown  is 
poor,  and  cannot  bribe  even  the  nobility,  who  will 
mutiny,  since  they  cannot  sell  themselves.  The 


268        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

elements,  too,  as  if  their  pensions  also  were  struck 
off,  have  vented  their  wrath  on  some  of  the  costly 
cones  at  Cherbourg.  Well,  we  have  a  little  breath- 
ing time,  and  may  play  the  fool. 


LXXXVII. 

CONCERNING  VOLTAIRE,  MRS.   PIOZZI,  AND    OTHERS. 
To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  July  12, 1788. 

WON'T  you  repent  having  opened  the  correspon- 
dence, my  dear  madam,  when  you  find  my  letters 
come  so  thick  upon  you?  In  this  instance,  how- 
ever, I  am  only  to  blame  in  part,  for  being  too 
ready  to  take  advice,  for  the  sole  reason  for  which 
advice  ever  is  taken,  —  because  it  fell  in  with  my 
inclination. 

You  said  in  your  last  that  you  feared  you  took  up 
time  of  mine  to  the  prejudice  of  the  public,  —  imply- 
ing, I  imagine,  that  I  might  employ  it  in  composing. 
Waiving  both  your  compliment  and  my  own  vanity, 
I  will  speak  very  seriously  to  you  on  that  subject, 
and  will  exact  truth.  My  simple  writings  have  had 
better  fortune  than  they  had  any  reason  to  expect ; 
and  I  fairly  believe,  in  a  great  degree,  because 
gentlemen  writers,  who  do  not  write  for  interest, 
are  treated  with  some  civility  if  they  do  not  write 
absolute  nonsense.  I  think  so,  because  I  have  not 
unfrequently  known  much  better  works  than  mine 
much  more  neglected,  if  the  name,  fortune,  and 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         269 

situation  of  the  authors  were  below  mine.  I  wrote 
early  from  youth,  spirits,  and  vanity ;  and  from  both 
the  last  when  the  first  no  longer  existed.  I  now 
shudder  when  I  reflect  on  my  own  boldness,  and 
with  mortification  when  I  compare  my  own  writings 
with  those  of  any  great  authors.  This  is  so  true 
that  I  question  whether  it  would  be  possible  for 
me  to  summon  up  courage  to  publish  anything  I 
have  written,  if  I  could  recall  time  past,  and  should 
yet  think  as  I  think  at  present.  So  much  for  what 
is  over  and  out  of  my  power.  As  to  writing  now, 
I  have  totally  forsworn  the  profession,  for  two 
solid  reasons.  One  I  have  already  told  you ;  and 
it  is,  that  I  know  my  own  writings  are  trifling  and 
of  no  depth.  The  other  is  that,  light  and  futile 
as  they  were,  I  am  sensible  they  are  better  than  I 
could  compose  now.  I  am  aware  of  the  decay  of 
the  middling  parts  I  had,  and  others  may  be  still 
more  sensible  of  it.  How  do  I  know  but  I  am 
superannuated  ?  Nobody  will  be  so  coarse  as  to  tell 
me  so ;  but  if  I  published  dotage,  all  the  world  would 
tell  me  so.  And  who  but  runs  that  risk  who  is  an 
author  after  seventy?  What  happened  to  the  great- 
est author  of  this  age,  and  who  certainly  retained  a 
very  considerable  portion  of  his  abilities  for  ten 
years  after  my  age?  Voltaire,  at  eighty-four,  I 
think,  went  to  Paris  to  receive  the  incense,  in 
person,  of  his  countrymen,  and  to  be  witness  of 
their  admiration  of  a  tragedy  he  had  written  at 
that  Methusalem  age.  Incense  he  did  receive  till 
it  choked  him ;  and  at  the  exhibition  of  his  play 
he  was  actually  crowned  with  laurel  in  the  box 


270        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

where  he  sat !  But  what  became  of  his  poor  play? 
It  died  as  soon  as  he  did,  —  was  buried  with  him ; 
and  no  mortal,  I  dare  to  say,  has  ever  read  a  line 
of  it  since,  it  was  so  bad.1 

As  I  am  neither  by  a  thousandth  part  so  great, 
nor  a  quarter  so  little,  I  will  herewith  send  you  a 
fragment  that  an  accidental  rencontre  set  me  upon 
writing,  and  which  I  found  so  flat  that  I  would  not 
finish  it.  Don't  believe  that  I  am  either  begging 
praise  by  the  stale  artifice  of  hoping  to  be  contra- 
dicted, or  that  I  think  there  is  any  occasion  to 
make  you  discover  my  caducity.  No;  but  the 
fragment  contains  a  curiosity,  —  English  verses 
written  by  a  French  Prince  of  the  blood,2  and 
which  at  first  I  had  a  mind  to  add  to  my  "  Royal 
and  Noble  Authors ; "  but  as  he  was  not  a  royal 
author  of  ours,  and  as  I  could  not  please  myself 
with  an  account  of  him,  I  shall  revert  to  my  old 
resolution  of  not  exposing  my  pen's  gray  hairs. 

Of  one  passage  I  must  take  notice  :  it  is  a  little 
indirect  sneer  at  our  crowd  of  authoresses.  My 
choosing  to  send  this  to  you  is  a  proof  that  I  think 
you  an  author,  that  is,  a  classic.  But,  in  truth,  I 
am  nauseated  by  the  Madams  Piozzi,  etc.,  and  the 
host  of  novel-writers  in  petticoats  who  think  they 
imitate  what  is  inimitable,  —  "  Evelina  "  and  "  Ce- 
cilia." Your  candor,  I  know,  will  not  agree  with 
me  when  I  tell  you  I  am  not  at  all  charmed  with 
Miss  Seward  and  Mr.  Hayley  piping  to  one  another ; 

*  Irene. 

2  Charles,  Duke  of  Orleans,  taken  as  a  prisoner  to  Eng- 
land after  the  battle  of  Agincourt. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         271 

but  you  I  exhort  and  would  encourage  to  write, 
and  flatter  myself  you  will  never  be  royally  gagged 
and  promoted  to  fold  muslins,  as  has  been  lately 
wittily  said  on  Miss  Burney, *  in  the  List  of  five 
hundred  living  authors.  Your  writings  promote 
virtues ;  and  their  increasing  editions  prove  their 
worth  and  utility.  If  you  question  my  sincerity, 
can  you  doubt  my  admiring  you  when  you  have 
gratified  my  self-love  so  amply  in  your  "  Bas 
Bleu "  ?  Still,  as  much  as  I  love  your  writings,  I 
respect  yet  more  your  heart  and  your  goodness. 
You  are  so  good  that  I  believe  you  would  go  to 
heaven,  even  though  there  were  no  Sunday,  and 
only  six  working  days  in  the  week.  Adieu,  my 
best  madam  ! 

LXXXVIII. 

ON   MEETING  THE  MISSES   BERRY. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Oct.  n,  1788. 
I  AM  sorry,  madam,  that  mes  villageoises  have  no 
better  provender  than  my  syllogisms  to  send  to  their 
correspondents,  nor  am  I  ambitious  of  rivalling  the 
barber  or  innkeeper,  and  becoming  the  wit  of  five 
miles  round.  I  remember  how,  long  ago,  I  esti- 
mated local  renown  at  its  just  value  by  a  sort  of 
little  adventure  that  I  will  tell  you ;  and  since  that 
there  is  an  admirable  chapter  somewhere  in  Voltaire 

*  The  author  of  "  Evelina  "  had  been  made  joint  keeper 
of  the  Queen's  Robes. 


272        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

which  shows  that  more  extended  fame  is  but  local 
on  a  little  larger  scale,  —  it  is  the  chapter  of  the 
Chinese  who  goes  into  a  European  bookseller's 
shop,  and  is  amazed  at  finding  none  of  the  works  of 
his  most  celebrated  countrymen ;  while  the  book- 
seller finds  the  stranger  equally  ignorant  of  Western 
classics. 

Well,  madam,  here  is  my  tiny  story.  I  went 
once  with  Mr.  Rigby  to  see  a  window  of  painted 
glass  at  Messling,  in  Essex,  and  dined  at  a  better 
sort  of  alehouse.  The  landlady  waited  on  us  and 
was  notably  loquacious,  and  entertained  us  with  the 
bons-mots  and  funny  exploits  of  Mr.  Charles :  Mr. 
Charles  said  this,  Mr.  Charles  played  such  a  trick ; 
oh,  nothing  was  so  pleasant  as  Mr.  Charles  !  But 
how  astonished  the  poor  soul  was  when  we  asked 
who  Mr.  Charles  was,  and  how  much  more  as- 
tonished when  she  found  we  had  never  heard  of  Mr. 
Charles  Luchyn,  who,  it  seems,  is  a  relation  of  Lord 
Grimston,  had  lived  in  their  village,  and  been  the 
George  Selwyn l  of  half  a  dozen  cottages. 

If  I  had  a  grain  of  ambitious  pride  left,  it  is  what 
in  other  respects  has  been  the  thread  that  has  run 
through  my  life,  —  that  of  being  forgotten  ;  so  true, 
except  the  folly  of  being  an  author,  has  been  what  I 
said  last  year  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  [George  IV.]  : 
when  he  asked  me  if  I  was  a  Freemason,  I  replied, 
"  No,  sir ;  I  never  was  anything." 

A  propos  to  the  Prince  :  I  am  sorry  you  do  not 
approve  of  my  offering  to  kiss  the  Duke's  hand 
when  he  came  to  see  my  house.  I  never  had  been 
1  Selwyn  was  the  Magnus  Apollo  of  the  Walpole  set. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE.        273 

presented  to  him ;  but  moreover,  as  I  am  very  se- 
cure of  never  being  suspected  to  pay  my  court  for 
interest,  and  certainly  never  seek  royal  personages, 
I  always  pique  myself,  when  thrown  in  their  way,  upon 
showing  that  I  know  I  am  nobody,  and  know  the 
distance  between  them  and  me  :  this  I  take  to  be 
common-sense,  and  do  not  repent  of  my  behavior. 
If  I  were  a  grandee  and  in  place,  I  would  not,  like 
the  late  Duchess  of  Northumberland,  jig  after  them, 
calling  them  my  master  and  my  mistress.  I  think 
if  I  were  their  servant,  I  would  as  little,  like  the 
same  Grace,  parade  before  the  Queen  with  more 
footmen  than  her  Majesty.  That  was  impertinent. 

I  am  sorry,  for  the  third  time  of  this  letter,  that  I 
have  no  new  village  anecdotes  to  send  your  Lady- 
ship, since  they  divert  you  for  a  moment.  I  have 
one,  but  some  months  old.  Lady  Charleville,  my 
neighbor,  told  me,  three  months  ago,  that,  having 
some  company  with  her,  one  of  them  had  been  to 
see  Strawberry.  "Pray,"  said  another,  "who  is 
that  Mr.  Walpole  ?  "  "  Lord  !  "  cried  a  third, 
"don't  you  know  the  great  epicure,  Mr.  Walpole?" 
"  Pho  !  "  said  the  first,  "great  epicure  !  you  mean 
the  antiquarian."  There,  madam,  surely  this  an- 
ecdote may  take  its  place  in  the  chapter  of  local 
fame.  If  I  have  picked  up  no  recent  anecdotes  on 
our  Common,  I  have  made  a  much  more,  to  me, 
precious  acquisition.  It  is  the  acquaintance  of  two 
young  ladies  of  the  name  of  Berry,  whom  I  first  saw 
last  winter  and  who  accidentally  took  a  house  here 
with  their  father  for  this  season.  Their  story  is 
singular  enough  to  entertain  you.  The  grandfather, 
18 


274        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

a  Scot,  had  a  large  estate  in  his  own  country, — 
^5000  a  year,  it  is  said ;  and  a  circumstance  I  shall 
tell  you  makes  it  probable.  The  eldest  son  married 
for  love  a  woman  with  no  fortune.  The  old  man 
was  enraged,  and  would  not  see  him.  The  wife  died, 
and  left  these  two  young  ladies.  Their  grandfather 
wished  for  an  heir  male,  and  pressed  the  widower 
to  re-marry,  but  could  not  prevail,  the  son  declar- 
ing he  would  consecrate  himself  to  his  daughters 
and  their  education.  The  old  man  did  not  break 
with  him  again,  but  much  worse,  totally  disinherited 
him,  and  left  all  to  his  second  son,  who  very  hand- 
somely gave  up  ;£8oo  a  year  to  his  elder  brother. 
Mr.  Berry  has  since  carried  his  daughters  for  two  or 
three  years  to  France  and  Italy,  and  they  are  re- 
turned the  best  informed  and  the  most  perfect  crea- 
tures I  ever  saw  at  their  age.  They  are  exceedingly 
sensible,  entirely  natural  and  unaffected,  frank,  and 
being  qualified  to  talk  on  any  subject,  nothing  is  so 
easy  and  agreeable  as  their  conversation,  —  not  more 
apposite  than  their  answers  and  observations.  The 
eldest,  I  discovered  by  chance,  understands  Latin, 
and  is  a  perfect  Frenchwoman  in  her  language. 
The  younger  draws  charmingly,  and  has  copied  ad- 
mirably Lady  Di's  gypsies  which  I  lent,  though  for 
the  first  time  of  her  attempting  colors.  They  are  of 
pleasing  figures :  Mary,  the  eldest,  sweet,  with  fine, 
dark  eyes,  that  are  very  lively  when  she  speaks,  with 
a  symmetry  of  face  that  is  the  more  interesting  from 
being  pale ;  Agnes,  the  younger,  has  an  agreeable, 
sensible  countenance,  hardly  to  be  called  handsome, 
but  almost.  She  is  less  animated  than  Mary,  but 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        275 

seems,  out  of  deference  to  her  sister,  to  speak  sel- 
domer,  for  they  dote  on  each  other,  and  Mary  is 
always  praising  her  sister's  talents.  I  must  even  tell 
you  they  dress  within  the  bounds  of  fashion,  though 
fashionably ;  but  without  the  excrescences  and  bal- 
conies with  which  modern  hoydens  overwhelm  and 
barricade  their  persons.  In  short,  good  sense,  in- 
formation, simplicity,  and  ease  characterize  the  Berrys, 
—  and  this  is  not  particularly  mine,  who  am  apt  to 
be  prejudiced,  but  the  universal  voice  of  all  who  know 
them.  The  first  night  I  met  them  I  would  not  be 
acquainted  with  them,  having  heard  so  much  in 
their  praise  that  I  concluded  they  would  be  all  pre- 
tension. The  second  time,  in  a  very  small  company, 
I  sat  next  to  Mary,  and  found  her  an  angel  both 
inside  and  out.  Now  I  do  not  know  which  I 
like  best,  except  Mary's  face,  which  is  formed  for  a 
sentimental  novel,  but  is  ten  times  fitter  for  a  fifty 
times  better  thing,  genteel  comedy.  This  delightful 
family  comes  to  me  almost  every  Sunday  evening,  as 
our  region  is  too  proclamatory  to  play  at  cards  on 
the  seventh  day.  I  do  not  care  a  straw  for  cards, 
but  I  do  disapprove  of  this  partiality  to  the  youngest 
child  of  the  week ;  while  the  other  poor  six  days  are 
treated  as  if  they  had  no  souls  to  save.  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  that  Mr.  Berry  is  a  little,  merry  man,  with  a 
round  face,  and  you  would  not  suspect  him  of  so 
much  feeling  and  attachment.  I  make  no  excuse 
for  such  minute  details ;  for  if  your  Ladyship  insists 
on  hearing  the  humors  of  my  district,  you  must  for 
once  indulge  me  with  sending  you  two  pearls  that  I 
found  in  my  path. 


276         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 
LXXXIX. 

ACCEPTANCE  OF   AN    INVITATION. 
To  the  Misses  Berry  I 

February  2,  17,  —  71  2  [1789]. 

I  AM  sorry,  in  the  sense  of  that  word  before  it 
meant,  like  a  Hebrew  word,  glad  or  sorry,  that  I  am 
engaged  this  evening;  and  I  am  at  your  command 
on  Tuesday,  as  it  is  always  my  inclination  to  be. 
It  is  a  misfortune  that  words  are  become  so  much 
the  current  coin  of  society  that,  like  King  William's 
shillings,  they  have  no  impression  left, —  they  are  so 
smooth  that  they  mark  no  more  to  whom  they  first 
belonged  than  to  whom  they  do  belong,  and  are  not 
worth  even  the  twelvepence  into  which  they  may 
be  changed ;  but  if  they  mean  too  little,  they  may 
seem  to  mean  too  much  too,  especially  when  an 
old  man  (who  is  often  synonymous  for  a  miser) 
parts  with  them.  I  am  afraid  of  protesting  how 
much  I  delight  in  your  society,  lest  I  should  seem 
to  affect  being  gallant ;  but  if  two  negatives  make 
an  affirmative,  why  may  not  two  ridicules  compose 
one  piece  of  sense  ?  And  therefore,  as  I  am  in  love 
with  you  both,  I  trust  it  is  a  proof  of  the  good  sense 
of  yours  devotedly. 

1  The  first  of  the  series  of   letters  addressed  to  these 
ladies. 

2  The  date  refers  to  his  own  age,  —  seventy-one. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        277 

XC. 

ON  DARWIN'S    "  BOTANIC  GARDEN." 
To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  April  22,  1789. 
DEAR  MADAM,  —  As  perhaps  you  have  not  yet 
seen  the  "  Botanic  Garden "  (which  I  believe  I 
mentioned  to  you),  I  lend  it  you  to  read.  The 
poetry,  I  think,  you  will  allow  most  admirable ; 
and  difficult  it  was,  no  doubt.  If  you  are  not  a 
naturalist  as  well  as  a  poetess,  perhaps  you  will 
lament  that  so  powerful  a  talent  has  been  wasted 
to  so  little  purpose ;  for  where  is  the  use  of  de- 
scribing in  verse  what  nobody  can  understand  with- 
out a  long  prosaic  explanation  of  every  article? 
It  is  still  more  unfortunate  that  there  is  not  a  symp- 
tom of  plan  in  the  whole  poem.  The  lady-flowers 
and  their  lovers  enter  in  pairs  or  trios  or  etc.,  as 
often  as  the  couples  in  "  Cassandra,"  and  you  are 
not  a  whit  more  interested  about  one  heroine  and 
her  swain  than  about  another.  The  similes  are 
beautiful,  fine,  and  sometimes  sublime  ;  and  thus  the 
episodes  will  be  better  remembered  than  the  mass 
of  the  poem  itself,  which  one  cannot  call  the  sub- 
ject; for  could  one  call  it  a  subject,  if  anybody  had 
composed  a  poem  on  the  matches  formerly  made 
in  the  Fleet,  where,  as  Waitwell  says,  in  "  The  Way 
of  the  World,"  they  stood  like  couples  in  rows  ready 
to  begin  a  country  dance?  Still,  I  flatter  myself 


278        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

you  will  agree  with  me  that  the  author  is  a  great 
poet,  and  could  raise  the  passions,  and  possesses  all 
the  requisites  of  the  art.  I  found  but  a  single  bad 
verse  :  in  the  last  canto  one  line  ends  "  e'er  long." 
You  will  perhaps  be  surprised  at  meeting  a  truffle 
converted  into  a  nymph,  and  inhabiting  a  palace 
studded  with  emeralds  and  rubies,  like  a  saloon  in 
the  Arabian  Nights  !  I  had  a  more  particular  mo- 
tive for  sending  this  poem  to  you  :  you  will  find  the 
bard  espousing  your  poor  Africans.  There  is  be- 
sides, which  will  please  you  too,  a  handsome  pane- 
gyric on  the  apostle  of  humanity,  Mr  Howard. 

Mrs.  Garrick,  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing in  her  own  box  at  Mr.  Conway's  play,  gave  me 
a  much  better  account  of  your  health,  which  de- 
lighted me.  I  am  sure,  my  good  friend,  you  par- 
take of  my  joy  at  the  great  success  of  his  comedy. 
The  additional  character  of  the  Abbe"  pleased  much  : 
it  was  added  by  the  advice  of  the  players  to  enliven 
it ;  that  is,  to  stretch  the  jaws  of  the  pit  and  gal- 
leries. I  sighed  silently,  for  it  was  originally  so 
genteel  and  of  a  piece  that  I  was  sorry  to  have  it 
tumbled  by  coarse  applauses.  But  this  is  a  secret. 
I  am  going  to  Twickenham  for  two  days  on  an 
assignation  with  the  spring,  and  to  avoid  the  riotous 
devotion  of  to-morrow. 

A  gentleman  essayist  has  printed  what  he  calls 
some  strictures  on  my  "  Royal  and  Noble  Authors," 
in  revenge  for  my  having  spoken  irreverently  (on 
Bishop  Burnet's  authority)  of  the  Earl  of  Anglesey, 
who  had  the  honor,  it  seems,  of  being  the  gentle- 
man's grandfather.  He  asks  me,  by  the  way,  why 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         279 

it  was  more  ridiculous  in  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  to 
write  his  two  comedies,  than  in  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham to  write  "  The  Rehearsal  "?  Alas  !  I  know 
but  one  reason,  which  is,  that  it  is  less  ridiculous 
to  write  one  excellent  comedy  than  two  very  bad 
ones.  Peace  be  with  such  answerers  !  Adieu, 
my  dear  madam  !  Yours  most  cordially. 


XCI. 

ON  THE  RECEIPT  OF   "BISHOP  BONNER'S  GHOST." 
To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  June  23,  1789. 

MADAM  HANNAH,  —  You  are  an  errant  reprobate, 
and  grow  wickeder  and  wickeder  every  day.  You 
deserve  to  be  treated  like  a  negre ;  and  your  favor- 
ite, Sunday,  to  which  you  are  so  partial  that  you 
treat  the  other  poor  six  days  of  the  week  as  if  they 
had  no  souls  to  be  saved,  should,  if  I  could  have 
my  will,  "shine  no  Sabbath-day  for  you."  Now, 
don't  simper,  and  look  as  innocent  as  if  virtue  would 
not  melt  in  your  mouth.  Can  you  deny  the  follow- 
ing charges?  I  lent  you  the  "Botanic  Garden," 
and  you  returned  it  without  writing  a  syllable,  or 
saying  where  you  were  or  whither  you  were  going,  — 
I  suppose  for  fear  I  should  know  how  to  direct  to 
you.  Why,  if  I  did  send  a  letter  after  you,  could 
not  you  keep  it  three  months  without  an  answer,  as 
you  did  last  year? 

In  the  next  place,  you  and  your  nine  accomplices 


280        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

—  who,  by  the  way,  are  too  good  in  keeping  you 
company  —  have  clubbed  the  prettiest  poem  imag- 
inable, and  communicated  it  to  Mrs.  Boscawen,  with 
injunctions  not  to  give  a  copy  of  it,  —  I  suppose 
because  you  are  ashamed  of  having  written  a  pane- 
gyric. Whenever  you  do  compose  a  satire,  you  are 
ready  enough  to  publish  it,  —  at  least,  whenever  you 
do,  you  will  din  one  to  death  with  it.  But  now, 
mind  your  perverseness :  that  very  pretty  novel 
poem,  —  and  I  must  own  it  is  charming,  —  have  you 
gone  and  spoiled,  flying  in  the  faces  of  your  best 
friends,  the  Muses,  and  keeping  no  measures  with 
them.  I  '11  be  shot  if  they  dictated  two  of  the  best 
lines,  with  two  syllables  too  much  in  each,  —  nay, 
you  have  weakened  one  of  them. 

"  Ev'n  Gardiner's  mind  " 

is  far  more  expressive  than  steadfast  Gardiner's ; 
and,  as  Mrs.  Boscawen  says,  whoever  knows  anything 
of  Gardiner  could  not  want  that  superfluous  epithet ; 
and  whoever  does  not,  would  not  be  the  wiser  for 
your  foolish  insertion.  Mrs.  Boscawen  did  not  call 
it  foolish,  but  I  do.  The  second  line,  as  Mesdemoi- 
selles  the  Muses  handed  it  to  you,  miss,  was, 

"  Have  all  be  free  and  saved," 

not,  "  All  be  free  and  all  be  saved  : "  the  second  "  all 
be  "  is  a  most  unnecessary  tautology.  The  poem 
was  perfect  and  faultless,  if  you  could  have  let  it 
alone.  I  wonder  how  your  mischievous  flippancy 
could  help  maiming  that  most  new  and  beautiful 
expression,  "  sponge  of  sins ;  "  I  should  not  have 
been  surprised,  as  you  love  verses  too  full  of  feet,  if 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         281 

you  had  changed  it  to  "  that  scrubbing-brush  of 
sins." 

Well,  I  will  say  no  more  now ;  but  if  you  do  not 
order  me  a  copy  of  "  Bonner's  Ghost  "  incontinently, 
never  dare  to  look  my  printing-house  in  the  face 
again.  Or  come,  I  '11  tell  you  what :  I  will  forgive 
all  your  enormities  if  you  will  let  me  print  your 
poem.  I  like  to  filch  a  little  immortality  out  of 
others,  and  the  Strawberry  press  could  never  have 
a  better  opportunity.  I  will  not  haggle  for  the 
public ;  I  will  be  content  with  printing  only  two 
hundred  copies,  of  which  you  shall  have  half,  and 
I  half.  It  shall  cost  you  nothing  but  a  yes.  I  only 
propose  this  in  case  you  do  not  mean  to  print  it 
yourself.  Tell  me  sincerely  which  you  like.  But 
as  to  not  printing  it  at  all,  charming  and  unexcep- 
tionable as  it  is,  you  cannot  be  so  preposterous. 

I  by  no  means  have  a  thought  of  detracting  from 
your  own  share  in  your  own  poem ;  but  as  I  do  sus- 
pect that  it  caught  some  inspiration  from  your  peru- 
sal of  the  "  Botanic  Garden,"  so  I  hope  you  will 
discover  that  my  style  is  much  improved  by  having 
lately  studied  Bruce's  Travels.  There  I  dipped, 
and  not  in  St.  Giles's  Pound,  where  one  would  think 
this  author  had  been  educated.  Adieu  !  Your  friend, 
or  mortal  foe,  as  you  behave  on  the  present  occasion. 


282        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

XCII. 

WITH  A  CONTRIBUTION   FOR  CHARITY. 

To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Feb.  20,  1790 
IT  is  very  provoking  that  people  must  always  be 
hanging  or  drowning  themselves,  or  going  mad,  that 
you,  forsooth,  mistress,  may  have  the  diversion  of 
exercising  your  pity  and  good-nature  and  charity 
and  intercession,  and  all  that  bead-roll  of  virtues 
that  make  you  so  troublesome  and  amiable,  when 
you  might  be  ten  times  more  agreeable  by  writing 
things  that  would  not  cost  one  above  half-a-crown  at 
a  time.  You  are  an  absolutely  walking  hospital,  and 
travel  about  into  lone  and  by  places,  with  your 
doors  open  to  house  stray  casualties  !  I  wish  at 
least  that  you  would  have  some  children  yourself, 
that  you  might  not  be  plaguing  one  for  all  the  pretty 
brats  that  are  starving  and  friendless.  I  suppose  it 
was  some  such  goody  two  or  three  thousand  years 
ago  that  suggested  the  idea  of  an  alma  mater,  suck- 
ling the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  bantlings  of 
the  Countess  of  Hainault.  Well,  as  your  newly 
adopted  pensioners  have  two  babes,  I  insist  on  your 
accepting  two  guineas  for  them,  instead  of  one  at 
present  (that  is,  when  you  shall  be  present).  If 
you  cannot  circumscribe  your  own  charities,  you 
shall  not  stint  mine,  madam,  who  can  afford  it 
much  better,  and  who  must  be  dunned  for  alms, 
and  do  not  scramble  over  hedges  and  ditches  in 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.          283 

searching  for  opportunities  of  flinging  away  my 
money  on  good  works.  I  employ  mine  better  at 
auctions,  and  in  buying  pictures  and  baubles,  and 
hoarding  curiosities  that  in  truth  I  cannot  keep 
long,  but  that  will  last  forever  in  my  catalogue,  and 
make  me  immortal !  Alas  !  will  they  cover  a  mul- 
titude of  sins?  Adieu  !  I  cannot  jest  after  that 
sentence.  Yours  sincerely. 


XCIII. 

A  LETTER  OF  FAREWELL. 

To  the  Misses  Berry. 

Sunday,  Oct.  10,  1790. 
(The  day  of  your  departure.} 

Is  it  possible  to  write  to  my  beloved  friends 
and  refrain  from  speaking  of  my  grief  for  losing 
you?  —  though  it  is  but  the  continuation  of  what  I 
have  felt  ever  since  I  was  stunned  by  your  intention 
of  going  abroad  this  autumn.  Still  I  will  not  tire 
you  with  it  often.  In  happy  days  I  smiled,  and 
called  you  my  dear  wives ;  now  I  can  only  think  on 
you  as  darling  children  of  whom  I  am  bereaved. 
As  such  I  have  loved  and  do  love  you  \  and  charm- 
ing as  you  both  are,  I  have  had  no  occasion  to  re- 
mind myself  that  I  am  past  seventy-three.  Your 
hearts,  your  understandings,  your  virtues,  and  the 
cruel  injustice  of  your  fate  l  have  interested  me  in 

1  This  alludes  to  their  father  having  been  disinherited  by 
an  uncle  to  whom  he  was  heir  at  law,  and  a  large  property  left 
to  his  younger  brother. 


284        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

everything  that  concerns  you ;  and  so  far  from  hav- 
ing occasion  to  blush  for  any  unbecoming  weakness, 
I  am  proud  of  my  affection  for  you,  and  very  proud 
of  your  condescending  to  pass  so  many  hours  with 
a  very  old  man,  when  everybody  admires  you  and 
the  most  insensible  allow  that  your  good  sense  and 
information  (I  speak  of  both)  have  formed  you  to 
converse  with  the  most  intelligent  of  our  sex  as 
well  as  your  own,  and  neither  can  tax  you  with  airs 
of  pretension  or  affectation.  Your  simplicity  and 
natural  ease  set  off  all  your  other  merits.  All  these 
graces  are  lost  to  me,  alas  !  when  I  have  no  time  to 
lose. 

Sensible  as  I  am  to  my  loss,  it  will  occupy  but 
part  of  my  thoughts  till  I  know  you  safely  landed, 
and  arrived  safely  at  Turin.  Not  till  you  are  there, 
and  I  learn  so,  will  my  anxiety  subside  and  settle 
into  steady,  selfish  sorrow.  I  looked  at  every 
weathercock  as  I  came  along  the  road  to-day,  and 
was  happy  to  see  every  one  point  northeast.  May 
they  do  so  to-morrow ! 

I  found  here  the  frame  for  Wolsey,  and  to-morrow 
morning  Kirgate  will  place  him  in  it ;  and  then  I 
shall  begin  pulling  the  little  parlor  to  pieces,  that 
it  may  be  hung  anew  to  receive  him.  I  have  also 
obeyed  Miss  Agnes,  though  with  regret ;  for  on  try- 
ing it,  I  found  her  Arcadia l  would  fit  the  place  of 
the  picture  she  condemns,  which  shall  therefore  be 
hung  in  its  room,  —  though  the  latter  should  give  way 
to  nothing  else,  nor  shall  be  laid  aside,  but  shall  hang 
where  I  shall  see  it  almost  as  often.  I  long  to  hear 
1  A  drawing  by  Miss  Agnes  Berry. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        285 

that  its  dear  paintress  is  well ;  I  thought  her  not  at 
all  so  last  night.  You  will  tell  me  the  truth,  though 
she  in  her  own  case,  and  in  that  alone,  allows  her- 
self mental  reservation. 

Forgive  me  for  writing  nothing  to-night  but  about 
you  two  and  myself.  Of  what  can  I  have  thought 
else?  I  have  not  spoken  to  a  single  person  but  my 
own  servants  since  we  parted  last  night.  I  found  a 
message  here  from  Miss  Howe  to  invite  me  for  this 
evening,  —  do  you  think  I  have  not  preferred  stay- 
ing at  home  to  write  to  you,  as  this  must  go  to  Lon- 
don to-morrow  morning  by  the  coach  to  be  ready 
for  Tuesday's  post?  My  future  letters  shall  talk  of 
other  things,  whenever  I  know  anything  worth  re- 
peating, —  or  perhaps  any  trifle,  for  I  am  determined 
to  forbid  myself  lamentations  that  would  weary  you  ; 
and  the  frequency  of  my  letters  will  prove  there  is 
no  forgetfulness.  If  I  live  to  see  you  again,  you  will 
then  judge  whether  I  am  changed ;  but  a  friendship 
so  rational  and  so  pure  as  mine  is,  and  so  equal  for 
both,  is  not  likely  to  have  any  of  the  fickleness  of 
youth,  when  it  has  none  of  its  other  ingredients.  It 
was  a  sweet  consolation  to  the  short  time  that  I 
may  have  left,  to  fall  into  such  a  society ;  no  wonder 
then  that  I  am  unhappy  at  that  consolation  being 
abridged.  I  pique  myself  on  no  philosophy  but 
what  a  long  use  and  knowledge  of  the  world  had 
given  me,  —  the  philosophy  of  indifference  to  most 
persons  and  events.  I  do  pique  myself  on  not  being 
ridiculous  at  this  very  late  period  of  my  life;  but 
when  there  is  not  a  grain  of  passion  in  my  affection 
for  you  two,  and  when  you  both  have  the  good  sense 


286        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    W ALP  OLE. 

not  to  be  displeased  at  my  telling  you  so  (though  I 
hope  you  would  have  despised  me  for  the  contrary) , 
I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  your  loss  is  heavy  to 
me,  and  that  I  am  only  reconciled  to  it  by  hoping 
that  a  winter  in  Italy,  and  the  journeys  and  sea  air, 
will  be  very  beneficial  to  two  constitutions  so  deli- 
cate as  yours.  Adieu  !  my  dearest  friends,  it  would 
be  tautology  to  subscribe  a  name  to  a  letter,  every 
line  of  which  would  suit  no  other  man  in  the  world 
but  the  writer. 


XCIV. 

ON  SOME  NEW  BOOKS. 

To  Miss  Berry. 
BERKELEY  SQUARE,  May  26,  1791. 

THE  rest  of  my  letter  must  be  literary,  for  we 
have  no  news.  BoswelFs  book  is  gossiping,  but 
having  numbers  of  proper  names,  would  be  more 
readable,  at  least  by  me,  were  it  reduced  from 
two  volumes  to  one ;  but  there  are  woful  longueurs, 
both  about  his  hero  and  himself,  the  fidus  Achates, 
about  whom  one  has  not  the  smallest  curiosity.  But 
I  wrong  the  original  Achates :  one  is  satisfied  with 
his  fidelity  in  keeping  his  master's  secrets  and  weak- 
nesses, which  modern  led  captains  betray  for  their 
patron's  glory  and  to  hurt  their  own  enemies, —  which 
Boswell  has  done  shamefully,  particularly  against 
Mrs.  Piozzi  and  Mrs.  Montagu  and  Bishop  Percy. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        287 

Dr.  Blagden  says  justly  that  it  is  a  new  kind  of 
libel,  by  which  you  may  abuse  anybody,  by  saying 
some  dead  person  said  so  and  so  of  somebody 
alive.  Often,  indeed,  Johnson  made  the  most  brutal 
speeches  to  living  persons  ;  for  though  he  was  good- 
natured  at  bottom,  he  was  very  ill-natured  at  top. 
He  loved  to  dispute  to  show  his  superiority.  If 
his  opponents  were  weak,  he  told  them  they  were 
fools ;  if  they  vanquished  him,  he  was  scurrilous,  — 
to  nobody  more  than  to  Boswell  himself,  who  was 
contemptible  for  flattering  him  so  grossly,  and  for 
enduring  the  coarse  things  he  was  continually  vomit- 
ing on  Boswell's  own  country,  Scotland.  I  expected, 
amongst  the  excommunicated,  to  find  myself,  but 
am  very  gently  treated.  I  never  would  be  in  the 
least  acquainted  with  Johnson ;  or,  as  Boswell  calls 
it,  I  had  not  a  just  value  for  him,  —  which  the  bio- 
grapher imputes  to  my  resentment  for  the  Doctor's 
putting  bad  arguments  (purposely,  out  of  Jacobi- 
tism)  into  the  speeches  which  he  wrote  fifty  years 
ago  for  my  father  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine ;  " 
which  I  did  not  read  then,  or  ever  knew  Johnson 
wrote  till  Johnson  died,  nor  have  looked  at  since. 
Johnson's  blind  Toryism  and  known  brutality  kept 
me  aloof;  nor  did  I  ever  exchange  a  syllable  with 
him :  nay,  I  do  not  think  I  ever  was  in  a  room 
with  him  six  times  in  my  days.  Boswell  came  to 
me,  said  Dr.  Johnson  was  writing  the  "  Lives  of  the 
Poets,"  and  wished  I  would  give  him  anecdotes  of 
Mr.  Gray.  I  said,  very  coldly,  I  had  given  what  I 
knew  to  Mr.  Mason.  Boswell  hummed  and  hawed, 
and  then  dropped,  "  I  suppose  you  know  Dr.  John- 


288        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

son  does  not  admire  Mr.  Gray."  Putting  as  much 
contempt  as  I  could  into  my  look  and  tone,  I  said, 
"  Dr.  Johnson  don't !  —  hump  !  "  —  and  with  that 
monosyllable  ended  our  interview.  After  the  Doc- 
tor's death,  Burke,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  Bos- 
well  sent  an  ambling  circular-letter  to  me,  begging 
subscriptions  for  a  monument  for  him,  —  the  two 
last,  I  think,  impertinently,  as  they  could  not  but 
know  my  opinion,  and  could  not  suppose  I  would 
contribute  to  a  monument  for  one  who  had  en- 
deavored, poor  soul !  to  degrade  my  friend's  su- 
perlative poetry.  I  would  not  deign  to  write  an 
answer,  but  sent  down  word  by  my  footman,  as 
I  would  have  done  to  parish  officers  with  a  brief, 
that  I  would  not  subscribe.  In  the  two  new  vol- 
umes Johnson  says,  and  very  probably  did,  or  is 
made  to  say,  that  Gray's  poetry  is  dull,  and  that 
he  was  a  dull  man !  The  same  oracle  dislikes 
Prior,  Swift,  and  Fielding.  If  an  elephant  could 
write  a  book,  perhaps  one  that  had  read  a  great  deal 
would  say  that  an  Arabian  horse  is  a  very  clumsy, 
ungraceful  animal.  Pass  to  a  better  chapter ! 

Burke  has  published  another  pamphlet1  against 
the  French  Revolution,  in  which  he  attacks  it  still 
more  grievously.  The  beginning  is  very  good  ;  but 
it  is  not  equal,  nor  quite  so  injudicious  as  parts  of 
its  predecessor,  —  is  far  less  brilliant,  as  well  as  much 
shorter ;  but  were  it  ever  so  long,  his  mind  over- 
flows with  such  a  torrent  of  images  that  he  can- 
not be  tedious.  His  invective  against  Rousseau  is 

1  This  was  the  Letter  from  Mr.  Burke  to  a  Member  of  the 
National  Assembly. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         289 

admirable,  just,  and  new.  Voltaire  he  passes  almost 
contemptuously.  I  wish  he  had  dissected  Mirabeau 
too ;  and  I  grieve  that  he  has  omitted  the  violation 
of  the  consciences  of  the  clergy,  nor  stigmatized 
those  universal  plunderers,  the  National  Assembly, 
who  gorge  themselves  with  eighteen  livres  a  day,  — 
which  to  many  of  them  would,  three  years  ago, 
have  been  astonishing  opulence. 

When  you  return,  I  shall  lend  you  three  volumes 
in  quarto  of  another  work,  with  which  you  will  be 
delighted.  They  are  State  letters  in  the  reigns  of 
Henry  the  Eighth,  Mary,  Elizabeth,  and  James ;  be- 
ing the  correspondence  of  the  Talbot  and  Howard 
families,  given  by  a  Duke  of  Norfolk  to  the  Herald's 
Office  ;  where  they  have  lain  for  a  century  neglected, 
buried  under  dust,  and  unknown,  till  discovered  by 
a  Mr.  Lodge,  a  genealogist,  who,  to  gratify  his  pas- 
sion, procured  to  be  made  a  pursuivant.  Oh,  how 
curious  they  are  !  Henry  seizes  an  alderman  who 
refused  to  contribute  to  a  benevolence,  sends  him 
to  the  army  on  the  Borders,  orders  him  to  be  ex- 
posed in  the  front  line,  and  if  that  does  not  do,  to 
be  treated  with  the  utmost  rigor  of  military  disci- 
pline. His  daughter  Bess  is  not  less  a  Tudor.  The 
mean,  unworthy  treatment  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  is 
striking ;  and  you  will  find  how  Elizabeth's  jealousy 
of  her  crown  and  her  avarice  were  at  war,  and  how 
the  more  ignoble  passion  predominated.  But  the 
most  amusing  passage  is  one  in  a  private  letter,  as 
it  paints  the  awe  of  children  for  their  parents  a  little 
differently  from  modern  habitudes.  Mr.  Talbot, 
second  son  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  was  a  mem- 
19 


290        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

ber  of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  was  married. 
He  writes  to  the  Earl  his  father,  and  tells  him  that 
a  young  woman  of  a  very  good  character  has  been 
recommended  to  him  for  chambermaid  to  his  wife, 
and  if  his  Lordship  does  not  disapprove  of  it,  he 
will  hire  her.  There  are  many  letters  of  news  that 
are  very  entertaining  too.  But  it  is  nine  o'clock, 
and  I  must  go  to  Lady  Cecilia's. 


XCV. 

ON  HIS  ACCESSION  TO  THE  TITLE  EARL  OF 
ORFORD. 

To  Miss  Hannah  More. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  Jan.  i,  1792. 

MY    MUCH-ESTEEMED    FRIEND, I     have    not     SO 

long  delayed  answering  your  letter  from  the  pitiful 
revenge  of  recollecting  how  long  your  pen  is  fetch- 
ing breath  before  it  replies  to  mine.  Oh  !  no ;  you 
know  I  love  to  heap  coals  of  kindness  on  your  head, 
and  to  draw  you  into  little  sins,  that  you  may  for- 
give yourself,  by  knowing  your  time  was  employed 
on  big  virtues.  On  the  contrary,  you  would  be 
revenged ;  for  here  have  you,  according  to  your 
notions,  inveigled  me  into  the  fracture  of  a  com- 
mandment, —  for  I  am  writing  to  you  on  a  Sunday, 
being  the  first  moment  of  leisure  that  I  have  had 
since  I  received  your  letter.  It  does  not  indeed 
clash  with  my  religious  ideas,  as  I  hold  paying  one's 
debts  as  good  a  deed  as  praying  and  reading  ser- 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         291 

mons  for  a  whole  day  in  every  week,  when  it  is 
impossible  to  fix  the  attention  to  one  course  of 
thinking  for  so  many  hours  for  fifty-two  days  in 
every  year.  Thus  you  see  I  can  preach  too.  But 
seriously,  and  indeed  I  am  little  disposed  to  cheer- 
fulness now,  I  am  overwhelmed  with  troubles  and 
with  business,  —  and  business  that  I  do  not  under- 
stand ;  law,  and  the  management  of  a  ruined  estate, 
are  subjects  ill-suited  to  a  head  that  never  studied 
anything  that  in  worldly  language  is  called  useful. 
The  tranquillity  of  my  remnant  of  life  will  be  lost, 
or  so  perpetually  interrupted  that  I  expect  little 
comfort ;  not  that  I  am  already  intending  to  grow 
rich,  but  the  moment  one  is  supposed  so,  there 
are  so  many  alert  to  turn  one  to  their  own  account 
that  I  have  more  letters  to  write  to  satisfy,  or  rather 
to  dissatisfy  them,  than  about  my  own  affairs,  though 
the  latter  are  all  confusion.  I  have  such  missives, 
on  agriculture,  pretensions  to  livings,  offers  of  taking 
care  of  my  game  as  I  am  incapable  of  it,  self- 
recommendations  of  making  my  robes,  and  round 
hints  of  taking  out  my  writ,  that  at  least  I  may  name 
a  proxy,  and  give  my  dormant  conscience  to  some- 
body or  other  !  I  trust  you  think  better  of  my 
heart  and  understanding  than  to  suppose  that  I 
have  listened  to  any  one  of  these  new  friends.  Yet, 
though  I  have  negatived  all,  I  have  been  forced  to 
answer  some  of  them  before  you ;  and  that  will 
convince  you  how  cruelly  ill  I  have  passed  my  time 
lately,  besides  having  been  made  ill  with  vexation 
and  fatigue.  But  I  am  tolerably  well  again. 

For   the   other   empty  metamorphosis    that   has 


292        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

happened  to  the  outward  man,  you  do  me  justice 
in  concluding  that  it  can  do  nothing  but  teaze  me ; 
it  is  being  called  names  in  one's  old  age.  I  had 
rather  be  my  Lord  Mayor,  for  then  I  should  keep 
the  nickname  but  a  year ;  and  mine  I  may  retain  a 
little  longer,  —  not  that  at  seventy-five  I  reckon  on 
becoming  my  Lord  Methusalem.  Vainer,  however, 
I  believe  I  am  already  become ;  for  I  have  wasted 
almost  two  pages  about  myself,  and  said  not  a  tittle 
about  your  health,  which  I  most  cordially  rejoice  to 
hear  you  are  recovering,  and  as  fervently  hope  you 
will  entirely  recover.  I  have  the  highest  opinion  of 
the  element  of  water  as  a  constant  beverage ;  having 
so  deep  a  conviction  of  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of 
Providence  that  I  am  persuaded  that  when  it  in- 
dulged us  in  such  a  luxurious  variety  of  eatables, 
and  gave  us  but  one  drinkable,  it  intended  that  our 
sole  liquid  should  be  both  wholesome  and  correc- 
tive. Your  system  I  know  is  different;  you  hold 
that  mutton  and  water  were  the  only  cock  and  hen 
that  were  designed  for  our  nourishment ;  but  I  am 
apt  to  doubt  whether  draughts  of  water  for  six  weeks 
are  capable  of  restoring  health,  though  some  are 
strongly  impregnated  with  mineral  and  other  parti- 
cles. Yet  you  have  staggered  me ;  the  Bath  water 
by  your  account  is,  like  electricity,  compounded  of 
contradictory  qualities  :  the  one  attracts  and  repels ; 
the  other  turns  a  shilling  yellow,  and  whitens  your 
jaundice.  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  (when  is  that  to 
be  ?)  without  alloy. 

I  must  finish,  wishing  you   three   hundred  and 
thirteen  days  of  happiness  for  the  new  year  that  is 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         293 

arrived  this  morning :  the  fifty-two  that  you  hold 
in  commendam,  I  have  no  doubt  will  be  rewarded 
as  such  good  intentions  deserve.  Adieu,  my  too 
good  friend  !  My  direction  shall  talk  superciliously 
to  the  postman ; 1  but  do  let  me  continue  un- 
changeably your  faithful  and  sincere 

HOR.  WALPOLE.2 


XCVI. 

ON   FRENCH  AFFAIRS. 

To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Nov.  10,  1793. 

I  RETURN  your  Ladyship  the  lines  as  you  ordered, 
and  do  not  recollect  having  seen  them  before. 
They  may  have  been  written  by  Mary,8  for  I  think 
she  did  write  some  French  verses,  —  and  if  she  did 
write  these,  very  poorly  too,  both  as  to  the  language 
and  poetry,  as  far  as  I  can  read  them,  for  they  are 
very  badly  transcribed.  They  ought  to  be  well 
authenticated,  if  the  original  paper  exists.  Has  it 
lain  at  Fotheringhay  till  now,  and  yet  is  preserved, 
and  was  never  seen  before?  I  am  a  little  in- 
credulous, and  as  incurious,  for  the  lines  only  excite 
compassion,  no  admiration. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  your  Ladyship's  inquiries. 

1  He  means  franking  his  letter  by  his  newly  acquired  title 
of  Earl  of  Orford. 

2  This  is  the  last  letter  signed  "  Horace  Wai  pole."     He 
not  infrequently  styled  himself  "The  uncle  of  the  late  Earl 
of  Orford." 

8  Queen  of  Scots. 


294        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

I  cannot  say  I  am  very  well ;  yet  as  I  am  not  likely 
at  my  age  to  improve,  it  is  not  worth  a  new  para- 
graph :  nor  can  I  send  you  one  that  deserves  to 
be  sent.  I  have  not  seen  a  face  these  three  days 
but  of  my  own  servants ;  and  the  wheelbarrow  that 
carries  away  the  dead  leaves,  passes  its  time  in  a 
livelier  manner  than  I  do.  I  might  seek  for  more 
diversion ;  yet  not  being  at  all  convinced  that  I  should 
find  it,  I  am  content  to  let  the  days  pass  as  they 
please;  and  when  they  bring  me  no  disturbance,  I 
am  not  of  a  temper  to  invent  any  for  myself.  If  old 
folks  would  be  satisfied  with  tranquillity,  they  would 
find  more  of  the  attainable  than  any  former  objects 
of  their  pursuits.  Nature  furnishes  them  with  in- 
sensibility to  others ;  but  then  they  are  often  apt  to 
substitute  the  love  of  money  for  the  love  of  their 
friends,  and  are  so  foolish  as  not  to  reflect  that 
every  half-year's  interest  of  their  money  costs  them 
half  a  year  of  their  life.  I  don't  know  whether  any 
moralist  ever  made  this  reflection ;  if  there  did,  it 
has  been,  like  other  truths,  of  little  effect.  The 
French  philosophers  take  another  method  :  they  do 
not  demonstrate  the  inefficacy  of  moralizing.  On 
the  contrary,  lest  it  should  have  any  operation,  they 
expunge  all  morality,  and  attempt  to  establish  uni- 
versal liberty  by  destruction  of  all  religion  and  all 
the  terrors  of  futurity.  Men  would  certainly  be  per- 
fectly free,  if  restrained  by  no  government  without, 
and  by  no  apprehensions  within.  The  system  is  a 
vast  experiment.  Fortunately,  many  of  the  in- 
ventors have  been,  and  probably  more  of  its  pro- 
pagators will  be,  the  victims  of  such  diabolic 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        295 

tenets ;  and  as  some  axioms  still  maintain  their 
solidity,  that  of  extremes  meeting  grows  every  day 
more  uncontrovertible.  Turkish  despotism,  that 
depopulated  so  many  beautiful  provinces  and  islands 
for  the  mere  luxury  of  retaining  the  useless  soil,  is 
copied  continually  by  French  democracy ;  and  the 
Convention  exults  in  the  destruction  of  Lyons,  and 
their  own  cities  and  towns,  as  if  they  had  put  all 
Vienna  to  the  sword.  It  would  be  curious,  could 
one  know,  of  the  supposed  twenty-four  millions  of 
inhabitants  of  France  five  years  ago,  how  many  it 
has  lost  by  emigrations,  banishment,  massacres, 
executions,  battles,  sieges,  captives  made,  etc.,  and 
by  what  is  never  counted  in  wars,  the  hosts  of 
families  of  peasants  whose  cottages  and  hovels  have 
been  destroyed  by  foragers  and  march  of  armies. 
Famine  too,  I  suppose,  could  produce  a  long  bill  of 
those  that  have  fallen  in  her  department. 

There  is  another  item  not  yet  felt,  but  that  will 
be  a  heavy  one.  It  is  allowed  that  all  the  new 
levies  that  have  been  forced  to  the  frontiers,  espe- 
cially to  Maubeuge,  are  lads  of  fifteen,  sixteen,  and 
seventeen  years  of  age.  This  is  some  drawback  on 
population. 

One  might  make  some  deduction  from  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  species  by  the  cessation  of  monastic 
vows ;  but  they  had  ceased  to  a  considerable  degree 
before  the  Revolution.  When  I  was  last  at  Paris  I 
had  observed  how  rarely  I  met  a  monk  or  friar 
about  the  streets,  and  made  the  remark  to  a  very 
intelligent  person,  asking  him  whether  the  writings 
of  Voltaire  and  the  philosophers  had  made  the 


296        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

religious  ashamed  or  unwilling  to  appear  in  public  ? 
"  No,"  said  he,  "  but  those  writings  have  done 
much  more  :  they  have  so  damped  professions  that 
few  men  make  the  vows.  In  that  convent,"  said 
he,  pointing  to  a  very  large  one  in  the  Rue  St. 
Denis,  "  there  are  literally  but  two  friars."  This  is 
a  curious  fact,  madam,  and  I  am  glad  I  have 
scribbled  till  I  recollected  it.  It  will  make  you 
some  amends  for  the  rest  of  my  common-place. 


XCVIL 

DECLINING  THE  DEDICATION  OF  A  TRANSLATION 
OF  AULUS  GELLIUS. 

To  the  Rev.  William  Beloe. 

STRAWBERRY  HILL,  Dec.  2,  1794. 
I  DO  beg  and  beseech  you,  good  sir,  to  forgive 
me  if  I  cannot  possibly  consent  to  receive  the 
dedication  you  are  so  kind  and  partial  as  to  pro- 
pose to  me.  I  have  in  the  most  positive  and  al- 
most uncivil  manner  refused  a  dedication  or  two 
lately.  Compliments  on  virtues  which  the  persons 
addressed,  like  me,  seldom  possessed,  are  happily 
exploded  and  laughed  out  of  use.  Next  to  being 
ashamed  of  having  good  qualities  bestowed  on  me 
to  which  I  should  have  no  title,  it  would  hurt  to  be 
praised  on  my  erudition,  which  is  most  superficial, 
and  on  my  trifling  writings,  all  of  which  turn  on 
most  trifling  subjects.  They  amused  me  while 
writing  them;  may  have  amused  a  few  persons; 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.        297 

but  have  nothing  solid  enough  to  preserve  them 
from  being  forgotten  with  other  things  of  as  light  a 
nature.  I  would  not  have  your  judgment  called  in 
question  hereafter,  if  somebody  reading  your  Aulus 
Gellius  should  ask,  "What  were  those  writings  of 
Lord  O.  which  Mr.  Beloe  so  much  commends? 
Was  Lord  O.  more  than  one  of  the  mob  of  gentlemen 
who  wrote  with  ease?"  Into  that  class  I  must 
sink;  and  I  had  rather  do  so  imperceptibly  than 
to  be  plunged  down  to  it  by  the  interposition  of 
the  hand  of  a  friend  who  could  not  gainsay  the 
sentence. 

For  your  own  sake,  my  good  sir,  as  well  as  in 
pity  to  my  feelings,  who  am  sore  at  your  offering 
what  I  cannot  accept,  restrain  the  address  to  a  mere 
inscription.  You  are  allowed  to  be  an  excellent 
translator  of  classic  authors ;  how  unclassic  would 
a  dedication  in  the  old-fashioned  manner  appear  ! 
If  you  had  published  a  new  edition  of  Herodotus 
or  Aulus  Gellius,  would  you  have  ventured  to 
prefix  a  Greek  or  Latin  dedication  to  some  modern 
lord  with  a  Gothic  title  ?  Still  less,  had  those  ad- 
dresses been  in  vogue  at  Rome,  would  any  Roman 
author  have  inscribed  his  work  to  Marcus,  the  in- 
competent son  of  Cicero,  and  told  the  unfortunate 
offspring  of  so  great  a  man  of  his  high  birth  and 
declension  of  ambition?  —  which  would  have  excited 
a  laugh  on  poor  Marcus,  who,  whatever  may  have 
been  said  of  him,  had  more  sense  than  to  leave 
proofs  to  the  public  of  his  extreme  inferiority  to  his 
father. 


2 98         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 


XCVIII. 

WITH  A  SUBSCRIPTION.— COMMENTS  ON  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 

To  Miss  Hannah  More, 

BERKELEY  SQUARE, 
t  Saturday  Night,  Jan.  24,  1795. 

MY  BEST  MADAM,  —  I  will  never  more  complain  of 
your  silence ;  for  I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  you 
have  no  idle,  no  unemployed  moments.  Your  in- 
defatigable benevolence  is  incessantly  occupied  in 
good  works,  and  your  head  and  your  heart  make 
the  utmost  use  of  the  excellent  qualities  of  both. 
You  have  given  proofs  of  the  talents  of  one,  and 
you  certainly  do  not  wrap  the  still  more  precious 
talent  of  the  other  in  a  napkin.  Thank  you  a 
thousand  times  for  your  most  ingenious  plan ;  may 
great  success  reward  you  ! 

I  sent  one  instantly  to  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester, 
whose  piety  and  zeal  imitate  yours  at  a  distance ; 
but  she  says  she  cannot  afford  to  subscribe  just  at 
this  severe  moment,  when  the  poor  so  much  want 
her  assistance,  but  she  will  on  the  thaw,  and  should 
have  been  flattered  by  receiving  a  plan  from  your- 
self. I  sent  another  to  Lord  Harcourt,  who,  I 
trust,  will  show  it  to  a  much  greater  lady ;  and  I 
repeated  some  of  the  facts  you  told  me  of  the  foul 
fiends,  and  their  anti-More  activity.  I  sent  to  Mr. 
White  for  half  a  dozen  more  of  your  plans,  and 
will  distribute  them  wherever  I  have  hopes  of  their 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE   WALPOLE.          299 

taking  root  and  blossoming.  To-morrow  I  will 
send  him  my  subscription,  and  I  flatter  myself  you 
will  not  think  it  a  breach  of  Sunday,  nor  will  I  make 
this  long,  that  I  may  not  widen  that  fracture. 
Good  night !  How  calm  and  comfortable  must 
your  slumbers  be  on  the  pillow  of  every  day's 
good  deeds ! 

Monday. 

Yesterday  was  dark  as  midnight.  Oh,  that  it 
may  be  the  darkest  day  in  all  respects  that  we  shall 
see  !  But  these  are  themes  too  voluminous  and 
dismal  for  a  letter,  and  which  your  zeal  tells  me 
you  feel  too  intensely  for  me  to  increase,  when  you 
are  doing  all  in  your  power  to  counteract  them. 
One  of  my  grievances  is  that  the  sanguinary  in- 
humanity of  the  times  has  almost  poisoned  one's 
compassion,  and  makes  one  abhor  so  many  thou- 
sands of  our  own  species,  and  rejoice  when  they 
suffer  for  their  crimes.  I  could  feel  no  pity  on 
reading  the  account  of  the  death  of  Condorcet  (if 
true,  though  I  doubt  it) .  He  was  one  of  the  great- 
est monsters  exhibited  by  history,  and  is  said  to 
have  poisoned  himself  from  famine  and  fear  of 
the  guillotine ;  and  would  be  a  new  instance  of 
what  I  suggested  to  you  for  a  tract,  to  show  that 
though  we  must  not  assume  a  pretension  to  judging 
of  divine  judgments,  yet  we  may  believe  that  the 
economy  of  Providence  has  so  disposed  causes  and 
consequences  that  such  villains  as  Danton,  Robes- 
pierre, the  Duke  of  Orleans,  etc.,  do  but  dig  pits 
for  themselves.  I  will  check  myself,  or  I  shall 
wander  into  the  sad  events  of  the  last  five  years, 


300        LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

down  to  the  rage  of  party  that  has  sacrificed  Hol- 
land. What  a  fund  for  reflection  and  prophetic 
apprehension  !  May  we  have  as  much  wisdom  and 
courage  to  stem  our  malevolent  enemies  as  it  is 
plain,  to  our  lasting  honor,  we  have  had  charity  to 
the  French  emigrants,  and  have  bounty  for  the 
poor  who  are  suffering  in  this  dreadful  season  ! 

Adieu,  thou  excellent  woman  !  thou  reverse  of 
that  hyaena  in  petticoats,  Mrs.  Wollstonecraft,  who 
to  this  day  discharges  her  ink  and  gall  on  Maria 
Antoinette,  whose  unparalleled  sufferings  have  not 
yet  stanched  that  Alecto's  blazing  ferocity.  Adieu  ! 
adieu  !  Yours  from  my  heart. 

P.  S.  —  I  have  subscribed  five  guineas  at  Mr. 
White's  to  your  plan. 


XCIX. 

ON  THE  RECEIPT  OF  "LORENZO  DE'  MEDICI." 
To  William  Roscoe,  Esq. 

BERKELEY  SQUARE,  April  4,  1795. 
To  judge  of  my  satisfaction  and  gratitude  on  re- 
ceiving the  very  acceptable  present  of  your  book, 
sir,  you  should  have  known  my  extreme  impatience 
for  it  from  the  instant  Mr.  Edwards  had  kindly 
favored  me  with  the  first  chapters.  You  may  con- 
sequently conceive  the  mortification  I  felt  at  not 
being  able  to  thank  you  immediately  both  for  the 
volume  and  the  obliging  letter  that  accompanied  it, 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE,         301 

by  my  right  arm  and  hand  being  swelled  and 
rendered  quite  immovable  and  useless,  of  which 
you  will  perceive  the  remains  if  you  can  read  these 
lines,  which  I  am  forcing  myself  to  write,  not  with- 
out pain,  the  first  moment  I  have  power  to  hold 
a  pen;  and  it  will  cost  me  some  time,  I  believe, 
before  I  can  finish  my  whole  letter,  earnest  as  I  am, 
sir,  to  give  a  loose  to  my  gratitude. 

If  you  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  reading  such  a 
delightful  book  as  your  own,  imagine,  sir,  what  a 
comfort  it  must  be  to  receive  such  an  anodyne  in 
the  midst  of  a  fit  of  the  gout  that  has  already  lasted 
above  nine  weeks,  and  which  at  first  I  thought 
might  carry  me  to  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  before  he 
should  come  to  me  ! 

The  complete  volume  has  more  than  answered 
the  expectations  which  the  sample  had  raised.  The 
Grecian  simplicity  of  the  style  is  preserved  through- 
out ;  the  same  judicious  candor  reigns  in  every  page  ; 
and  without  allowing  yourself  that  liberty  of  indul- 
ging your  own  bias  towards  good  or  against  criminal 
characters,  which  over-rigid  critics  prohibit,  your 
artful  candor  compels  your  readers  to  think  with 
you  without  seeming  to  take  a  part  yourself.  You 
have  shown  from  his  own  virtues,  abilities,  and 
heroic  spirit  why  Lorenzo  deserved  to  have  Mr. 
Roscoe  for  his  biographer.  And  since  you  have 
been  so,  sir  (for  he  was  not  completely  known  be- 
fore, at  least  not  out  of  Italy) ,  I  shall  be  extremely 
mistaken  if  he  is  not  henceforth  allowed  to  be, 
in  various  lights,  one  of  the  most  excellent  and 
greatest  men  with  whom  we  are  well  acquainted, 


302         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

especially  if  we  reflect  on  the  shortness  of  his  life  and 
the  narrow  sphere  in  which  he  had  to  act.  Perhaps 
I  ought  to  blame  my  own  ignorance  that  I  did  not 
know  Lorenzo  as  a  beautiful  poet ;  I  confess  I  did 
not.  Now  I  do,  I  own  I  admire  some  of  his  son- 
nets more  than  several  —  yes,  even  of  Petrarch ; 
for  Lorenzo's  are  frequently  more  clear,  less  alembi- 
ques,  and  not  inharmonious,  as  Petrarch's  often  are 
from  being  too  crowded  with  words,  for  which 
room  is  made  by  numerous  elisions,  which  prevent 
the  softening  alternacy  of  vowels  and  consonants. 
That  thicket  of  words  was  occasioned  by  the  embar- 
rassing nature  of  the  sonnet,  —  a  form  of  composi- 
tion I  do  not  love,  and  which  is  almost  intolerable 
in  any  language  but  Italian,  which  furnishes  such  a 
profusion  of  rhymes.  To  our  tongue  the  sonnet  is 
mortal,  and  the  parent  of  insipidity.  The  imitation 
in  some  degree  of  it  was  extremely  noxious  to  a 
true  poet,  our  Spenser;  and  he  was  the  more 
injudicious  by  lengthening  his  stanza  in  a  language 
so  barren  of  rhymes  as  ours,  and  in  which  several 
words  whose  terminations  are  of  similar  sounds  are 
so  rugged,  uncouth,  and  unmusical.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  many  lines  which  he  forced  into 
the  service  to  complete  the  quota  of  his  stanza  are 
unmeaning,  or  silly,  or  tending  to  weaken  the 
thought  he  would  express. 

Well,  sir,  but  if  you  have  led  me  to  admire  the 
compositions  of  Lorenzo,  you  have  made  me  intim- 
ate with  another  poet,  of  whom  I  had  never  heard 
nor  had  the  least  suspicion,  and  who,  though  writing 
in  a  less  harmonious  language  than  Italian,  outshines 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         303 

an  able  master  of  that  country,  as  may  be  estimated 
by  the  fairest  of  all  comparisons,  —  which  is,  when 
one  of  each  nation  versifies  the  same  ideas  and 
thoughts. 

That  novel  poet  I  boldly  pronounce  is  Mr.  Ros- 
coe.  Several  of  his  translations  of  Lorenzo  are 
superior  to  the  originals,  and  the  verses  more 
poetic ;  nor  am  I  bribed  to  give  this  opinion  by  the 
present  of  your  book,  nor  by  any  partiality,  nor  by 
the  surprise  of  finding  so  pure  a  writer  of  history  as 
able  a  poet.  Some  good  judges  to  whom  I  have 
shown  your  translations  entirely  agree  with  me.  I 
will  name  one  most  competent  judge,  Mr.  Hoole, 
so  admirable  a  poet  himself,  and  such  a  critic  in 
Italian,  as  he  has  proved  by  a  translation  of  Ariosto. 
That  I  am  not  flattering  you,  sir,  I  will  demon- 
strate ;  for  I  am  not  satisfied  with  one  essential  line 
in  your  version  of  the  most  beautiful,  I  think,  of  all 
Lorenzo's  stanzas.  It  is  his  description  of  Jealousy, 
in  page  268,  equal,  in  my  humble  opinion,  to 
Dryden's  delineations  of  the  Passions,  and  the  last 
line  of  which  is — 

"  Mai  dorme,  ed  ostinata  a  se  sol  cred." 

The  thought  to  me  is  quite  new,  and  your  trans- 
lation I  own  does  not  come  up  to  it.  Mr.  Hoole 
and  I  hammered  at  it,  but  could  not  content  our- 
selves. Perhaps  by  altering  your  last  couplet  you 
may  enclose  the  whole  sense,  and  make  it  equal  to 
the  preceding  six. 

I  will  not  ask  your  pardon,  sir,  for  taking  so 
much  liberty  with  you.  You  have  displayed  so 


304         LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE. 

much  candor  and  so  much  modesty,  and  are  so  free 
from  pretensions,  that  I  am  confident  you  will  allow 
that  truth  is  the  sole  ingredient  that  ought  to  com- 
pose deserved  incense ;  and  if  ever  commendation 
was  sincere,  no  praise  ever  flowed  with  purer  vera- 
city than  all  I  have  said  in  this  letter  does  from 
the  heart  of,  sir,  your  infinitely  obliged,  humble 
servant. 


C. 

PICTURE  OF  HIS  OLD  AGE. 
To  the  Countess  of  Ossory. 

January  15,  1797.1 

MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  You  distress  me  infinitely 
by  showing  my  idle  notes,  which  I  cannot  conceive 
can  amuse  anybody.  My  old-fashioned  breeding 
impels  me  every  now  and  then  to  reply  to  the 
letters  you  honor  me  with  writing,  but  in  truth  very 
unwillingly,  for  I  seldom  can  have  anything  partic- 
ular to  say.  I  scarce  go  out  of  my  own  house,  and 
then  only  to  two  or  three  very  private  places,  where 
I  see  nobody  that  really  knows  anything,  and  what 
I  leam  comes  from  newspapers,  that  collect  intel- 
ligence from  coffee-houses,  —  consequently  what  I 
neither  believe  nor  report.  At  home  I  see  only 
a  few  charitable  elders,  except  about  fourscore 
nephews  and  nieces  of  various  ages,  who  are  each 

1  Six  weeks  later,  March  2,  1797,  Lord  Orford  died,  and 
was  buried  with  his  family  in  the  church  at  Houghton. 


LETTERS  OF  HORACE    WALPOLE.         305 

brought  to  me  about  once  a  year,  to  stare  at  me  as 
the  Methusalem  of  the  family,  and  they  can  only 
speak  of  their  own  contemporaries,  which  interest  me 
no  more  than  if  they  talked  of  their  dolls  or  bats 
and  balls.  Must  not  the  result  of  all  this,  madam, 
make  me  a  very  entertaining  correspondent?  And 
can  such  letters  be  worth  showing?  or  can  I  have 
any  spirit  when  so  old  and  reduced  to  dictate  ? 

Oh,  my  good  madam,  dispense  with  me  from 
such  a  task,  and  think  how  it  must  add  to  it  to 
apprehend  such  letters  being  shown  !  Pray  send  me 
no  more  such  laurels,  which  I  desire  no  more  than 
their  leaves  when  decked  with  a  scrap  of  tinsel  and 
stuck  on  twelfth-cakes  that  lie  on  the  shop-boards  of 
pastry-cooks  at  Christmas.  I  shall  be  quite  con- 
tent with  a  sprig  of  rosemary  thrown  after  me  when 
the  parson  of  the  parish  commits  my  dust  to  dust. 
Till  then  pray,  madam,  accept  the  resignation  of  your 
ancient  servant, 

ORFORD. 


SESAME   AND    LILIES. 

THREE   LECTURES   BY  JOHN    RUSKIN. 

I.  OF  KINGS'  TREASURES. 
II.   OF  QUEENS'  GARDENS. 
III.  OF  THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE. 
I2mo,  201  pages,  gilt  top.     Price,  $1.00. 
In  half  calf  or  half  morocco,  gilt  top,  $2.75. 
In  limp  russia  or  limp  morocco,  gilt  edges,  $3.50. 


One  of  the  most  popular  as  well  as  most  valuable  of  Ruskin's 
works  is  "  Sesame  and  Lilies,"  and  this  has  been  brought  out  by 
McClurg  &  Co.  in  a  neat  and  handy  volume  of  good  print  and 
excellent  paper.  The  publishers  have  wisely  inserted  in  this  volume 
Ruskin's  admirable  and  thoroughly  characteristic  preface  which  he 
prepared  for  the  new  and  revised  edition  of  his  works  in  1871. 
The  size,  shape,  and  compactness  of  this  issue  make  it  an  admira- 
ble pocket  companion  for  desultory  reading  in  the  cars,  in  the 
woods,  or  at  the  shore.  —  Evening  Transcript,  Boston. 

Other  editions  of  this  notable  and  popular  book  have  been 
printed,  but  none  so  tastefully  as  this.  Of  the  book  itself  it  may 
not  be  inopportune  to  say  that  it  shows  the  author  at  his  best, 
being  devoted  to  life  instead  of  art,  and  embodying  Ruskin's  ear- 
nestness and  gift  of  language  without  calling  attention  to  any  of 
his  oddities  and  hobbies.  —  Herald,  New  York. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  better  book  to  put  into  the  hands  of  a 
youth  —  boy  or  girl  —  at  that  epoch  of  life  when  the  spiritual  and 
intellectual  faculties  seem  to  leap  out  with  a  bound  from  the  chrysa- 
lis of  the  animal  nature  and  determine  their  direction  for  life.  — 
Home  Journal,  New  York. 

The  book  is  one  by  all  means  to  be  commended  to  young  women 
and  young  men  who  care  for  refinement  of  character  and  purity  of 
heart  and  earnestness  of  purpose,  and  who  are  able  to  appreciate 
noble  thought  clothed  in  exquisite  diction.  —  Evangelist,  New  York, 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO, 


THE    STANDARD    OPERAS.      Their 
Plots,  their  Music,  and  their  Composers.     By 
GEORGE  P.  UPTON,  author  of  "  Woman  in  Music," 
etc.,  etc. 

wmo,  flexible  cloth,  yellow  edges $1.50 

The  same,  extra  gilt,  gilt  edges *.oo 


"  Mr.  Upton  has  performed  a  service  that  can  hardly  be  toe 
highly  appreciated,  in  collecting  the  plots,  music,  and  the  com- 
posers of  the  standard  operas,  to  the  number  of  sixty-four,  and 
bringing  them  together  in  one  perfectly  arranged  volume.  .  .  . 
His  work  is  one  simply  invaluable  to  the  general  reading  pub- 
lic. Technicalities  are  avoided,  the  aim  being  to  give  to  musi- 
cally uneducated  lovers  of  the  opera  a  clear  understanding  of  the 
works  they  hear.  It  is  description,  not  criticism,  and  calculated 
to  greatly  increase  the  intelligent  enjoyment  of  music." — Boston 
Traveller. 

"  Among  the  multitude  of  handbooks  which  are  published 
every  year,  and  are  described  by  easy-going  writers  of  book- 
notices  as  supplying  a  long-felt  want,  we  know  of  none  which 
so  completely  carries  out  the  intention  of  the  writer  as  '  The 
Standard  Operas,'  by  Mr.  George  P.  Upton,  whose  object  is  to 
present  to  his  readers  a  comprehensive  sketch  of  each  of  the 
operas  contained  in  the  modern  repertory.  .  .  .  There  are 
thousands  of  music-loving  people  who  will  be  glad  to  have  the 
kind  of  knowledge  which  Mr.  Upton  has  collected  for  their 
benefit,  and  has  cast  in  a  clear  and  compact  form."  —  R .  H. 
Stoddard,  in  "  Evening  Mail  and  Express  "  (New  York). 

"  The  summaries  of  the  plots  are  so  clear,  logical,  and  well 
written,  that  one  can  read  them  with  real  pleasure,  which  cannot 
be  said  of  the  ordinary  operatic  synopses.  But  the  most  im- 
portant circumstance  is  that  Mr.  Upton's  book  is  fully  abreast 
of  the  times."  —  The  Nation  (New  York). 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  post-paid,  on   rtceipt 
of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 
COK.  WABASH  AVK.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


H^HE    STANDARD     ORATORIOS. 

-L  Their  Stories,  their  Music,  and  their  Composers.  A 
Handbook.  By  GEORGE  P.  UPTON.  i2mo,  335  pages, 
yellow  edges,  price,  $1.50;  extra  gilt,  gilt  edges,  $2.00. 

In  half  calf,  gilt  top  ....  $3.25 
In  half  morocco,  gilt  edges  .  3.75 
In  tree  calf,  gilt  edges  .  .  .  5-50 

Music  lovers  are  under  a  new  obligation  to  Mr.  Upton  for  this 
companion  to  his  ''Standard  Operas," — two  books  which  de- 
serve to  be  placed  on  the  same  shelf  with  Grove's  and  Riemann's 
musical  dictionaries.  —  The  Nation,  New  York. 

Mr.  George  P.  Upton  has  followed  in  the  lines  that  he  laid 
down  in  his  "  Standard  Operas,"  and  has  produced  an  admira- 
ble handwork,  which  answers  every  purpose  that  such  a  volume 
is  designed  to  answer,  and  which  is  certain  to  be  popular  now 
and  for  years  to  come.  —  The  Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

Like  the  valuable  art  hand-books  of  Mrs.  Jamison,  these 
volumes  contain  a  world  of  interesting  information,  indispensable 
to  critics  and  art  amateurs.  The  volume  under  review  is  ele- 
gantly and  succinctly  written,  and  the  subjects  are  handled  in  a 
thoroughly  comprehensive  manner.  —  Public  Opinion,  Wash- 
ington. 

The  book  is  a  masterpiece  of  skilful  handling,  charming  the 
reader  with  its  pure  English  style,  and  keeping  his  attention 
always  awake  in  an  arrangement  of  matter  which  makes  each 
succeeding  page  and  chapter  fresh  in  interest  and  always  full 
of  instruction,  while  always  entertaining.  —  The  Standard, 
Chicago 

The  author  of  this  book  has  done  a  real  service  to  the  vast 
number  of  people  who,  while  they  are  lovers  of  music,  have 
neither  the  leisure  nor  inclination  to  become  deeply  versed  in  its 
literature.  .  .  .  The  information  convened  is  of  just  the  sort  that 
the  average  of  cultivated  people  will  welcome  as  an  aid  to  com- 
prehending and  talking  about  this  species  of  musical  composi- 
tion. -  Church  Magazine,  Philadelphia. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receift  of  price,  by 
A.  C.   McCLURG  &  CO.,   PUBLISHERS, 

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THE  STANDARD  CANTATAS.  Their 
Stories,  their  Music,  and  their  Composers.  A  Hand- 
book.   By  GEORGE  P.  UPTON.   12010,  367  pages,  yellow 
edges,  price,  #1.50 ;  extra  gilt,  gilt  edges,  $2.00. 

In  half  calf,  gilt  top  ....  $3.25 
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The  "  Standard  Cantatas  "  forms  the  third  volume  in  the  uni. 
form  series  which  already  includes  the  now  well  known  "  Stan- 
dard Operas"  and  the  "  Standard  Oratorios."  This  latest  work 
deals  with  a  class  of  musical  compositions,  midway  between  the 
opera  and  the  oratorio,  which  is  growing  rapidly  in  favor  both 
with  composers  and  audiences. 

As  in  the  two  former  works,  the  subject  is  treated,  so  far  as 
possible,  in  an  untechnical  manner,  so  that  it  may  satisfy  the 
needs  of  musically  uneducated  music  lovers,  and  add  to  their  en- 
joyment by  a  plain  statement  of  the  story  of  the  cantata  and  a 
popular  analysis  of  its  music,  with  brief  pertinent  selections  from 
its  poetical  text. 

The  book  includes  a  comprehensive  essay  on  the  origin  of  the 
cantata,  and  its  development  from  rude  beginnings  ;  biographical 
sketches  of  the  composers ;  carefully  prepared  descriptions  of 
the  plots  and  the  music ;  and  an  appendix  containing  the  names 
and  dates  of  composition  of  all  the  best  known  cantatas  from  the 
earliest  times. 

This  series  of  works  on  popular  music  has  steadily  grown  in 
favor  since  the  appearance  of  the  first  volume  on  the  Operas. 
When  the  series  is  completed,  as  it  will  be  next  year  by  a  volume 
on  the  Standard  Symphonies,  it  will  be,  as  the  New  York 
"  Nation  '  has  said,  indispensable  to  every  musical  library. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

C-OR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


THE     STANDARD     SYMPHONIES. 
Their  History,  their  Music,  and  their  Composers. 
A  Handbook.    By  GEORGE  P.  UPTON.     12010,  321  pages, 
yellow  edges,  price  $1.50;  extra  gilt,  gilt  edges,  $2.00. 

In  half  calf,  gilt  top  ....  $3  25 
In  half  morocco,  gilt  edges  .  3.75 
In  tree  calf,  gilt  edges  .  •  .  5.50 


The  usefulness  of  this  handbook  cannot  be  doubted.  Its 
pages  are  packed  full  of  these  fascinating  renderings.  The 
accounts  of  each  composer  are  succinct  and  yet  sufficient.  The 
author  has  done  a  genuine  service  to  the  world  of  music  lovers. 
The  comprehension  of  orchestral  work  of  the  highest  character 
is  aided  efficiently  by  this  volume.  The  mechanical  execution 
of  the  volume  is  in  harmony  with  its  subject.  No  worthier 
volume  can  be  found  to  put  into  the  hands  of  an  amateur  or  a 
friend  of  music.  —  Public  Opinion,  Washington. 

None  who  have  seen  the  previous  books  of  Mr.  Upton  will 
need  assurance  that  this  is  as  indispensable  as  the  others  to  one 
who  would  listen  intelligently  to  that  better  class  of  music  which 
musicians  congratulate  themselves  Americans  are  learning  to 
appreciatively  enjoy.  — Home  Journal,  New  York. 

There  has  never  been,  in  this  country  at  least,  so  thorough  an 
attempt  to  collate  the  facts  of  programme  music.  .  .  .  As  a 
definite  helper  in  some  cases  and  as  a  refresher  in  others  we 
believe  Mr.  Upton's  book  to  have  a  lasting  value.  .  .  .  The 
book,  in  brief,  shows  enthusiastic  and  honorable  educational 
,  good  taste,  and  sound  scholarship. —  The  American, 


Upton's  books  should  be  read  and  studied  by  all  who  desire  to 
acquaint  themselves  with  the  facts  and  accomplishments  in  these 
interesting  forms  of  musical  composition.  —  The  Voice,  New 

It  is  written  in  a  style  that  cannot  fail  to  stimulate  the  reader, 
if  also  a  student  of  music,  to  strive  to  find  for  himself  the  under- 
lying meanings  of  the  compositions  of  the  great  composers. 
It  contains,  besides,  a  vast  amount  of  information  about  the 
symphony,  its  evolution  and  structure,  with  sketches  of  the  com- 
posers, and  a  detailed  technical  description  of  a  few  symphonic 
models.  It  meets  a  recognized  want  of  all  concert  goers.  — 
The  Cliautauquan. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


THE    STORY   OF   TONTY. 

AN    HISTORICAL    ROMANCE. 

By  Mrs.  MARY  HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD. 
I2mo,  224  pages.     Price,  $1.25. 


"  The  Story  of  Tonty  "  is  eminently  a  Western  story,  beginning 
at  Montreal,  tarrying  at  Fort  Frontenac,  and  ending  at  the  old  fort 
at  Starved  Rock,  on  the  Illinois  River.  It  weaves  the  adventures 
of  the  two  great  explorers,  the  intrepid  La  Salle  and  his  faithful 
lieutenant,  Tonty,  into  a  tale  as  thrilling  and  romantic  as  the  de- 
scriptive portions  are  brilliant  and  vivid.  It  is  superbly  illustrated 
with  twenty-three  masterly  drawings  by  Mr.  Enoch  Ward. 

Such  tales  as  this  render  service  past  expression  to  the  cause  of  his- 
tory. They  weave  a  spell  in  which  old  chronicles  are  vivified  and  breathe 
out  human  life  Mrs.  Catherwood,  in  thus  bringing  out  from  the  treasure- 
houses  of  half- forgotten  historical  record  things  new  and  old,  has  set  her- 
self one  of  the  worthiest  literary  tasks  of  her  generation,  and  is  showing 
herself  finely  adequate  to  its  fulfilment.  —  Transcript,  Boston. 

A  powerful  story  by  a  writer  newly  sprung  to  fame.  .  .  .  All  the 
century  we  have  been  waiting  for  the  deft  hand  that  could  put  flesh  upon 
the  dry  bones  of  our  early  heroes.  Here  is  a  recreation  indeed.  .  .  .  One 
comes  from  the  reading  of  the  romance  with  a  quickened  interest  in  our 
early  national  history,  and  a  profound  admiration  for  the  art  that  can  so 
transport  us  to  the  dreamful  realms  where  fancy  is  monarch  of  fact.  — 
Press,  Philadelphia. 

"The  Story  of  Tonty"  is  full  of  the  atmosphere  of  its  time.  It 
betrays  an  intimate  and  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  great  age  of  ex- 
plorers, and  it  is  altogether  a  charming  piece  of  work.  —  Christian 
Union,  New  York. 

Original  in  treatment,  in  subject,  and  in  all  the  details  of  mist  en 
scene,  it  must  stand  unique  among  recent  romances.  —  News,  Chicago. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


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